When I Die Dublin Will Be Written

Thought Is The Thought Of Thought.

You Behold In Me, Stephen Said With Grim Displeasure, A Horrible Example Of Free Thought.

And The First Till Last Alshemist Wrote Over Every Square Inch Of The Only Foolscap Available, His Own Body, Till By Its Corrosive Sublimation One Continuous Present Tense Integument Slowly Unfolded All Marryvoising Moodmoulded Cyclewheeling History.

There's Many A True Word Spoken In Jest.

An Irishman Needs Three Things : Silence, Cunnning, And Exile.