Sing Your Song. Dance Your Dance. Tell

The Master Says It's A Glorious Thing To Die For The Faith And Dad Says It's A Glorious Thing To Die For Ireland And I Wonder If There's Anyone In The World Who Would Like Us To Live. My Brothers Are Dead And My Sister Is Dead And I Wonder If They Died For Ireland Or For The Faith. Dad Says They Were Too Young To Die For Anything. Mam Says It Was Disease And Starvation And Him Never Having A Job. Dad Says, Och, Angela, Puts On His Cap, And Goes For A Long Walk.

I Can't Go Back. The Past Won't Go Away In This Family.

I Learned The Significance Of My Own Insignificant Life.

It’s Lovely To Know That The World Can’t Interfere With The Inside Of Your Head.

When I Look Back On My Childhood I Wonder How I Survived At All. It Was, Of Course, A Miserable Childhood: The Happy Childhood Is Hardly Worth Your While. Worse Than The Ordinary Miserable Childhood Is The Miserable Irish Childhood, And Worse Yet Is The Miserable Irish Catholic Childhood.