Art, At Any Rate In

Ireland Is A Great Country To Die Or Be Married In.

Good-byes Breed A Sort Of Distaste For Whomever You Say Good-bye To; This Hurts, You Feel, This Must Not Happen Again.

Not Only Is There No Question Of Solitude, But In The Long Run We May Not Choose Our Company.

Karen, Her Elbows Folded On The Deck-rail, Wanted To Share With Someone The Pleasure In Being Alone: This Is The Paradox Of Any Happy Solitude. She Had Never Landed At Cork, So This Hill And That Hill Beyond Were As Unexpected As Pictures At Which You Say "oh Look!" Nobody Was Beside Her To Share The Moment, Which Would Have Been Imperfect With Anyone Else There.

There's Something So Showy About Desperation, It Takes Hard Wits To See It's A Grandiose Form Of Funk.