Every article on these islands has an almost personal character, which gives this simple life, where all art is unknown, something of the artistic beauty of medieval life.

There is no language like the Irish for soothing and quieting.

The general knowledge of time on the island depends, curiously enough, on the direction of the wind.

It is the timber of poetry that wears most surely, and there is no timber that has not strong roots among the clay and worms.

Of the things which nourish the imagination, humour is one of the most needful, and it is dangerous to limit or destroy it.