The Pleasures Of Love Lasts But A

Lily, The Caretaker's Daughter, Was Literally Run Off Her Feet. Hardly Had She Brought One Gentleman Into The Little Pantry Behind The Office On The Ground Floor And Helped Him Off With His Overcoat, Than The Wheezy Hall-door Bell Clanged Again And She Had To Scamper Along The Bare Hallway To Let In Another Guest. It Was Well For Her She Had Not To Attend To The Ladies Also.

And Yet Her Name Was Like A Summons To All My Foolish Blood.

[a Writer Is] A Priest Of Eternal Imagination, Transmuting The Daily Bread Of Experience Into The Radiant Body Of Everliving Life.

Whatever Else Is Unsure In This Stinking Dunghill Of A World A Mother's Love Is Not.

There Was No Doubt About It: If You Wanted To Succeed You Had To Go Away. You Could Do Nothing In Dublin.