Quote #7
Lord, confound this surly sister, Blight her brow with blotch and blister, Cramp her larynx, lung and liver, In her guts a galling give her.
More from John Millington Synge
- I asked if I got sick and died, would you With my black funeral go walking too, If you'd stand close to hear them talk or pray While I'm le…
- These are rotten, so you're the Queen Of all are living, or have been.
- I'm a good scholar when it comes to reading but a blotting kind of writer when you give me a pen.
- When I was writing The Shadow of the Glen I got more aid than any learning could have given me from a chink in the floor of the old Wicklow…
- As a man has no right to kill one of his children if it is diseased or insane, so a man who has made the gradual and conscious expression o…
- In a good play every speech should be as fully flavoured as a nut or apple.
- I knew the stars, the flowers, and the birds, The gray and wintry sides of many glens, And did but half remember human words, In converse w…
- May I meet him with one tooth and it aching, and one eye to be seeing seven and seventy divils in the twists of the road, and one old timbe…