A Slave Is One Who Waits For

There Is No Topicmore Soporific And Generally Boring Than The Topic Of Ireland As Ireland, As A Nation.

Glance Is The Enemy Of Vision.

Where The Dead Walked And The Living Were Made Of Cardboard.

I Once Saw A Small Child Go To An Electric Light Switch As Say, Mamma, Can I Open The Light? She Was Using The Age-old Language Of Exploration, The Language Of Art.

We Live In An Age Of Science And Of Abundance. The Care And Reverence For Books As Such, Proper To An Age When No Book Was Duplicated Until Someone Took The Pains To Copy It Out By Hand, Is Obviously No Longer Suited To ’the Needs Of Society’, Or To The Conservation Of Learning. The Weeder Is Supremely Needed If The Garden Of The Muses Is To Persist As A Garden.