The Whisky Bears A Grudge

Never But The One Matter. The Dead And Gone. The Dying And Going. From The Word Go.

What Do I Know Of Man's Destiny? I Could Tell You More About Radishes.

I Have Always Been Amazed At My Contemporaries’ Lack Of Finesse, I Whose Soul Writhed From Morning To Night, In The Mere Quest Of Itself.

It Is Suicide To Be Abroad. But What It Is To Be At Home, ... What It Is To Be At Home? A Lingering Dissolution.

James Joyce: His Writing Is Not About Something. It Is The Thing Itself.