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Whatever else is unsure in this stinking dunghill of a world a mother’s love is not.

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I am tomorrow, or some future day, what I establish today. I am today what I established yesterday or some previous day.

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Better pass boldly into that other world, in the full glory of some passion, than fade and wither dismally with age.

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When I die Dublin will be written in my heart.

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I asked him with my eyes to ask again yes and then he asked me would I yes to say yes my mountain flower and first I put my arms around him yes and drew him down to me so he could feel my breasts all perfume yes and his heart was going like mad and yes I said yes I will Yes.

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