I despair of the Republic! Such dreariness, such whining sallow women, >>
When people ask for time, it's always for time to say no. Yes has one >>
There's no such thing as old age, there is only sorrow. >>
I have loved justice and hated iniquity: therefore I die in exile. >>
When the Irishman is found outside of Ireland in another environment, >>
You're an expatriate. You've lost touch with the soil. You get preciou >>
My first few weeks in America are always miserable, because the tastes I am cursed with are all of a kind that cannot be gratified here, and I am not enough in sympathy with our gross public to make up for the lack on the aesthetic side. One's friends are delightful; but we are none of us Americans, we don't think or feel as the Americans do, we are the wretched exotics produced in a European glass-house, the most displaced and useless class on earth!