when a love comes to an end, weaklings cry, efficient ones instantly find another love and wise already had one in reserve.
no great artist ever sees things as they really are. if he did he would cease to be an artist.
i represent to you all the sins you have never had the courage to commit
one can always be kind to people one cares nothing about
we irish are too poetical to be poets; we are a nation of brilliant failures, but we are the greatest talkers since the greeks.
what seems to us as bitter trials are often blessings in disguise