Conscious Writing Can Be The Death Of

Hindered Characters / Seldom Have Mothers / In Irish Stories, But They All Have Grandmothers.

What Is Our Innocence, What Is Our Guilt? All Are Naked, None Is Safe.

The Prey Of Fear, He, Always Curtailed, Extinguished, Thwarted By The Dusk, Work Partly Done, Says To The Alternating Blaze, "again The Sun! Anew Each Day; And New And New And New, That Comes Into And Steadies My Soul."

Egotism Is Usually Subversive Of Sagacity.

There Is No Pleasure Subtler Than The Sensation Of Being A Good Workman; And In Work There Is The Sense Of Consanguinity-unconscious As A Rule But Sometimes Conscious.