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He winged away on a wildgoup's chase across the kathartic ocean and made synthetic ink and sensitive paper for his own end out of his wit's wa...
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Writing in English is the most ingenious torture ever devised for sins commited in previous lives.
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Saying that a great genius is mad, while at the same time recognizing his artistic worth, is like saying that he had rheumatism or suffered from diabetes. Madness, in fact, is a medical term that can claim no more notice from the objective critic than he grants the charge of heresy raised by the theologian, or the charge of immorality raised by the police.
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If the Irish programme did not insist on the Irish language I suppose I could call myself a nationalist. As it is, I am content to recognize m...
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No pen, no ink, no table, no room, no time, no quiet, no inclination.
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