"And there. Caught in the morning sun. She goes. Galloping. Her hair flying from her head as Dingle's flows out from his mane. A gleaming black body rippling of muscle. Great long legs stretching out on the emerald turf."

"Reach up to put a hand to some dream you kept awake. Now you take it like a red ripe apple and polish quietly up and down one's sleeve."

"Eat this great bowl of emptiness."

"Life is always travelling to a sorrow."

"Balthazar B standing on this grey wet pavement. The rain falling through a halo of lamplight. A post office, butcher, grocer and newsagent. Lonely houses behind high hedges. The wind with a seaweed smell off the sea. This girl thinly standing, clutching her handbag. The rear red light of the taxi still seen after its sound is gone."

"Along the Liffey quays this night, puddles of water on the cobble stoned street. Lonely lamplights. Coal dust and barrels, crates and bundles of wire. Great shadows of the gas tank rearing in the sky. A whiff and sniff and smell of pine timber. Wild shadows against a sky faintly purple. Clouds rolling with moonlit edges. The blast of a ship's whistle. A hawser splashing in the water. Up in the crystal night the ship's red light. Trembling engines as the great black silhouette moves out on the flowing river."

"Good larder is a man's salvation."

"A tall scholar rushes up the steps to the lectern and Latins out grace. Beseated. A great clatter of shifting chairs. The carvers stand at their long tables sharpening knives. The great joints heaved up on their platters at the serving hatch. Thin harassed faces of these little women stared out across the dark gowned gathering. To catch their breath and go plunging back down again deep into the bowels of this dungeon kitchen. The clank of cutlery. The passing of the jug of beer. Light refreshing ale, a gift from a prosperous brewer."

"If you shoot off a chap's kneecaps I hardly think there is point in putting bullets in his liver."

"Morning wiping sleepy dust from eyes, Balthazar asked nannie why does everyone cry. Because your father has gone away. Where. To where people go. Where do they go. They pass away. Where. To be with God. Why. Because they are dead. What is dead. Dead is when your heart grows cold. Will my heart ever grow cold. Yes God love you little boy."

"You look so splendid." "Just my image. The inner Tomson is in a sand storm, the outer one is skiing down the sunny mountain, smiling." "Shall we bring the inner Tomson somewhere for a cocktail?" "Let's."

"Ambling south along the river past the Watch Museum, where so often one means to visit but never finds the time."

"A pity to meet kindness. Lower one's guard. And wham."

"Smell weakness and they close in all at once."

"What would make you happy, Miss Tomson." "A guy with a large soul. Not the small sneaky rats careening around these days."

"Interesting that in times of terror, when the boom is to be lowered, people you hire to save you trouble and trembling think instantly of their own skins. As things come out of the void to get you. Bullets, buses, trucks, germs."

"I, George Smith, hereby make known my last will and testicle. First off I should like to rear up and haunt all those who tried to screw me up while living. Special attention to be given those fuck pigs who have communicated with me by letter attempting thereby to get funds from my unrelenting clutches."

"If you don't live with kids they grow to hate you. If you live with them they hate you more. Not a shred of respect. [...] Take my money, and then look me in the eye and say who asked you to be our father."

"It would seem in life when all is said and done that it is unwise to speak to anyone if it can be avoided."

"Life getting like a merrygoround with people getting on and off and no one paying for the ride."

"Now kneel down in that booth while I give ye me special yule blessing. Get down in that booth. I know you're standing, you dirty ould cheat. Get down. For Jesus, what are you doing, ripping the phone out? Repeat after me, the Lord is my shepherd as I am one of his sheared sheep." "The Lord is my shepherd as I am one of his sheared sheep."

"And I've something to tell you in strict confidence so spread it everywhere."

"All I want Is one break Which is not My neck."

"They say there is good in everyone. If you just give them a chance. And a good boot in the arse."

"Turn to gangsterism." "Sebastian, I couldn't." "Tone, pride has you at its mercy." "Has me by the very ballocks." "Tony, I think a pint would see us right." "I think you're right for the first time since you last said that."

"How small we make our worlds. Gather them in, tighten them up into little castles of fear."

"What are you going to do in London?" "Rest from the eyes. Ever notice the eyes along the street. Ever notice them? Looking for something. And in this fine cultured city it's me."

"Mr Dangerfield, why don't you believe in hell and things like that?" "Hell is for poor people."

"What the hell have I got to show for all the time I've been over here? Nothing. And it's because of people like you. The Irish are all the same wherever they go. Faces compressed into masks of suffering. Complaining and excuses. And the Irish rasping, squabbling and bickering. Hear me? I'm sick of it. I hate it. I thought you got places where you learned to be an electrician. Good steady job. Good money. Have kids. I don't want kids. I don't want to be sucked down. And listen to some priested mick saying this is the second Sunday after Pentecost, there will be a communion breakfast next Sunday, and I want to see you all put a dollar in the basket. And every time I get a chance to get out of it, something screws me."

"I'm suspicious about people interested in saving other people's souls."

"I comforted her with readings from this Aquinas because he says it's good for you. And I said, tenderly earwards, heads on the pillow, that from manure, lilies grow. To know the real goodness one had to be bad and of sin. What good is it to God for a child to be born pure, to live purely and die purely. Where was the grace in that shallow, white sterility? You don't want that stuff. No. Get down it, down. The greatest whiteness is touched with black. The righteous were a sneaky bunch anyway."

"Takes two to congress."

"Hearts clicking. Remember that. Just so many times and click, we go away in this roofless world."

"I know this is a dreadful inconvenience for you, Miss Frost. I want you to know I really appreciate it. I have till now counted my friends on a hand of amputated fingers."

"A change of scene is good for a change of mind."

"Four o'clock on this oblong Tuesday, Sebastian pushing through the door of a secret public house, moved cautiously to an empty space at the bar. Bartender suspiciously approaching him. "I want a triple Irish, Gold Label. Quickly please." "Sir, I'm afraid I can't serve you." "You what?" "Can't serve you, sir, rules of the house, you've had enough to drink." "I've had enough to drink? What on earth do you mean?" "I think, sir, you've had sufficient unto your needs now. I think you've had enough now." "This is contemptible." "Peacefully sir, now. Keep the peace. When you're sober, sir, now, be very glad to serve you. Little sleep. You'll be fine." "Frightful outrage. Are you sure you're not drunk yourself?" "Now sir, a place and time for everything." "Well for Jesus sake." Sebastian turned from the bar pushed out through the door and along the street. In dazed condition."

"But Jesus, when you don't have any money, the problem is food. When you have money, it's sex. When you have both it's health, you worry about getting rupture or something. If everything is simply jake then you're frightened of death."

"They crossed the street and O'Keefe bought an Irish Times and moved jauntily over the bridge, both filled with a torrent of words bled from O'Keefe's excitement and memories of Dublin. They looked a curious pair and a group of small boys called after them, Jews, Jews, and O'Keefe spun back with an accusing finger, Irish, Irish, and they stood barefoot in silence. "That's what I like about Ireland, so open about hatreds.""

"And dear God Give me strength To put my shoulder To the wheel And push Like the rest."

"Across the Butt Bridge. Covered with torn newspapers and hulking toothless old men watching out the last years. They're bored. I know you've been in apprenticeships and that there was a moment when you were briefly respected for an opinion. Be in the sight of God soon. He'll be shocked. But there's happiness up there, gentlemen. All white and gold. Acetylene lighted sky. And when you go, go third class. You damn bastards."

"Reach over and press this buzzer for action. A young man's raw face flicked around the door. "Good morning, Mr. Dangerfield." "A fine spring morning, a double and some Woodbines." "Certainly, sir. Early today?" "Little business to attend to." "It's always business isn't it." "O aye." Some fine cliches there. Should be encouraged. Too many damn people trying to be different. Coining phrases when a good platitude would do and save anxiety."

"By all means come in, Kenneth." "Some place. What holds it up?" "Faith."

"The inhabitants will always see both sides of an argument so long as it can result in a fight."

"On Being Old. It's not nice but take comfort that you won't stay that way for ever."

"Writing is turning one's worst moments into money."

"I got disappointed in human nature as well and gave it up because I found it too much like my own."

"Rid the mind of knowledge when looking for pleasure. Or start thinking and find a lot of pain."

"Any boob can crash a party, in fact usually does, since that is all one seems to meet at this kind of affair."