I Care Not If I Live But

Ireland Sober Is Ireland Stiff.

This Race And This Country And This Life Produced Me, He Said. I Shall Express Myself As I Am.

His Soul Swooned Slowly As He Heard The Snow Falling Faintly Through The Universe And Faintly Falling, Like The Descent Of Their Last End, Upon All The Living And The Dead.

No One Who Has Any Self-respect Stays In Ireland, But Flees Afar As Though From A Country That Has Undergone The Visitation Of An Angered Jove.

We Are Bound Together By The Sympathy Of Our Antipathies.