"That's the height of my Latin. Fit me better if I had even that much English." Act one, pg. 8.

"Sweet smell! Sweet smell! Every year at this time somebody comes back with stories of the sweet smell. Sweet God, did the potatoes ever fail in Baile Beag? Well, did they ever - ever? Never! There was never blight here. Never. Never. But we're always sniffing about for it, aren't we? - looking for disaster. The rents are going to go up again - the harvest's going to be lost - the herring have gone away for ever - there's going to be evictions. Honest to God, some of you people aren't happy unless you're miserable and you'll not be content until you're dead!" Act one, pg. 18.

"'Uncertainty in meaning is incipient poetry' - who said that?" Act one, pg. 36.

"Even if I did speak Irish I'd always be...