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already America appeared Arthur attempt Austin Fagan beauty become began beginning better Brigid brought called clay comfort coming continually crowd curious Daffodils dark door dream drink Dublin Duignan Ellen entered eyes face fact father feel fellow felt fields figure Flynn further girl give Glannanea Glannidan going gone grand hand happened head hear immediately Ireland Irish kind Kitty knew land later laughed light lives look Lucy married Martin mean meeting merely mind moment morning mother moved never night once passed peasant person play poor present queer quiet realisation remained remembered road seemed seen side sister sometimes soon speak stage stood story strange street suddenly sure talk tell Theatre thing thought took Tower turned walking widow wonder writing written young
Page 202 - I cannot see what flowers are at my feet, Nor what soft incense hangs upon the boughs, But, in embalmed darkness, guess each sweet Wherewith the seasonable month endows The grass, the thicket, and the fruit-tree wild ; White hawthorn and the pastoral eglantine ; Fast-fading violets covered up in leaves ; And mid-May's eldest child, The coming musk-rose, full of dewy wine, The murmurous haunt of flies on summer eves.
Page 168 - I FLED Him, down the nights and down the days; I fled Him, down the arches of the years; I fled Him, down the labyrinthine ways Of my own mind; and in the mist of tears I hid from Him, and under running laughter. Up vistaed hopes, I sped; And shot, precipitated, Adown Titanic glooms of chasmed fears, From those strong Feet that followed, followed after.
Page 2 - ... in many a mouldering heap, The rude forefathers of the hamlet sleep.
Page 198 - Sometimes a horrible marionette Came out and smoked a cigarette Upon the steps like a live thing ' ; as also, perhaps, in the more uninhibited of the descriptions in the Ballad of Reading Gaol.
Page 88 - I'm not. A'm going for a wee dandher down Sandy Row." "For I have sucked its sorrows' sap out of the moon." "Say, kid, this is a rotten town." "All those gods whom their swarthy servant, Time, hath not yet slain.
Page 99 - The member of the Bureaucracy and the minor poet drifted back to a certain person. The poet began to beg of him to accept a play for the Tower. He put the poet off with a joke, but it was not so funny although the reasons for the subconscious rivalry were perfectly obvious. Both were peasant romancists.
Page 92 - ... fashionable with those supposed cowboys in those supposed parts of America. Of course no such thing really exists, and I don't see why we should make this move to emulate the picture palace. We who have maintained a continuous procession of strange peasants across this stage should endeavour to give an unique reading.
Page 86 - Irish Paddy so dear to the political cartoonist of my childhood days. Also you have the agricultural, uncouth swing, and the rich, melancholy Celtic voice changing to a perfectly natural and vulgar brogue. In fact, so far as the Tower Theatre is concerned, you are 'the business.
Page 246 - A putrid book," he could hear Phelim O'Brien say in "The Daffodils," while the others showed their enjoyment of this opinion around the greasy tables, a certain young man from the south hitting his knee continually as he endorsed the opinion of his...
Page 115 - He was one of themselves, and his vivid literary expression in terms of life the publication of them before the world. . . Perhaps Brian Doyle would attempt an attack upon the book for the Ballycullen Gazette. It would abound in all the well-worn phrases which made up his style. . . "An outrage upon all creeds and classes," "parishioners, respectable people are implicated.