Whatever else is unsure in this stinking dunghill of a world a mother’s love is not.
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- What did that mean, to kiss? You put your face up like that to say goodnight and then his mother put her face down. That was to kiss. His mother put her lips on his cheek; her lips were soft and they wetted his cheek; and they made a tiny little noise: kiss. Why did people do that with their two faces?
- I think a child should be allowed to take his father’s or mother’s name at will on coming of age. Paternity is a legal fiction.
- Love (understood as the desire of good for another) is in fact so unnatural a phenomenon that it can scarcely repeat itself, the soul being unable to become virgin again and not having energy enough to cast itself out again into the ocean of another’s soul.
- He comes into the world God knows how, walks on the water, gets out of his grave and goes up off the Hill of Howth. What drivel is this?
- Poetry, even when apparently most fantastic, is always a revolt against artifice, a revolt, in a sense, against actuality.
- A nation is the same people living in the same place.