To Leap Is Not Only

Some Ideas, Like Dandelions In Lawns, Strike Tenaciously: You May Pull Off The Top But The Root Remains, Drives Down Suckers And May Even Sprout Again.

I Became, And Remain, My Characters' Close And Intent Watcher: Their Director, Never. Their Creator I Cannot Feel That I Was, Or Am.

Art Is For [the Irish] Inseparable From Artifice: Of That, The Theatre Is The Home. Possibly, It Was England Made Me A Novelist.

Without Fiction, Either Life Would Be Insufficient Or The Winds From The North Would Blow Too Cold.

...though One Can Be Callous In Ireland One Cannot Be Wholly Opaque Or Material. An Unearthly Disturbance Works In The Spirit; Reason Can Never Reconcile One To Life; Nothing Allays The Wants One Cannot Explain.