The Cause Of Labour Is

Just As It Is True That A Stream Cannot Rise Above Its Source, So It Is True That A National Literature Cannot Rise Above The Moral Level Of The Social Conditions Of The People From Whom It Derives Its Inspiration.

Ireland, As Distinct From Her People, Is Nothing To Me; And The Man Who Is Bubbling Over With Love And Enthusiasm For "ireland," And Can Yet Pass Unmoved Through Our Streets And Witness All The Wrong And The Suffering, Shame And Degradation Wrought Upon The People Of Ireland-yea, Wrought By Irishmen Upon Irish Men And Women, Without Burning To End It, Is, In My Opinion, A Fraud And A Liar In His Heart, No Matter How He Loves That Combination Of Chemical Elements He Is Pleased To Call Ireland.

The Worker Is The Slave Of Capitalist Society, The Female Worker Is The Slave Of That Slave.

Apostles Of Freedom Are Ever Idolised When Dead, But Crucified When Alive.

The Irishman Frees Himself From Slavery When He Realizes The Truth That The Capitalist System Is The Most Foreign Thing In Ireland. The Irish Question Is A Social Question. The Whole Age-long Fight Of The Irish People Against Their Oppressors Resolves Itself In The Last Analysis Into A Fight For The Mastery Of The Means Of Life, The Sources Of Production, In Ireland. Who Would Own And Control The Land? The People, Or The Invaders; And If The Invaders, Which Set Of Them - The Most Recent Swarm Of Land Thieves, Or The Sons Of The Thieves Of A Former Generation?