Where Would The Irish Be Without Someone

One Can Live In The Shadow Of An Idea Without Grasping It.

I Am Fully Intelligent Only When I Write. I Have A Certain Amount Of Small-change Intelligence, Which I Carry Round With Me As, At Any Rate In A Town, One Has To Carry Small Money, For The Needs Of The Day, The Non-writing Day. But It Seems To Me I Seldom Purely Think ... If I Thought More I Might Write Less.

Autumn Arrives In The Early Morning.

Art Is One Thing That Can Go On Mattering Once It Has Stopped Hurting.

The Writer, Like A Swimmer Caught By An Undertow, Is Borne In An Unexpected Direction. He Is Carried To A Subject Which Has Awaited Him--a Subject Sometimes No Part Of His Conscious Plan. Reality, The Reality Of Sensation, Has Accumulated Where It Was Least Sought. To Write Is To Be Captured--captured By Some Experience To Which One May Have Given Hardly A Thought.