What will come of what you and I know and don't know, Heaven only has knowledge; but I'll see it through.

I've spoiled as good chances as ever a young man had that wants to make his way; but drink and cards, Michael, and the flare of this damned life at the centre--it got hold of me.

It muddled, drowned the best that was in me.

It's the witch's kitchen, is Dublin.

Ireland's the only place in the world where they make saints of criminals and pray to them; where they lose track of time and think they're in eternity; where emotion is saturnine logic and death is the touchstone of life.