A week of sweeping fogs has passed over and given me a strange sense of exile and desolation. I walk round the island nearly every day, yet I can see nothing anywhere but a mass of wet rock, a strip… — John Millington Synge Copy Share Image
There is no language like the Irish for soothing and quieting. — John Millington Synge Copy Share Image
Every article on these islands has an almost personal character, which gives this simple life, where all art is unknown, something of the artistic… — John Millington Synge Copy Share Image
Foreign languages are another favourite topic, and as these men are bilingual they have a fair notion of what it means to speak and… — John Millington Synge Copy Share Image
In a good play every speech should be as fully flavoured as a nut or apple. — John Millington Synge Copy Share Image
At first I threw my weight upon my heels, as one does naturally in a boot, and was a good deal bruised, but after… — John Millington Synge Copy Share Image
In this cry of pain the inner consciousness of the people seems to lay itself bare for an instant, and to reveal the mood… — John Millington Synge Copy Share Image
The general knowledge of time on the island depends, curiously enough, on the direction of the wind. — John Millington Synge Copy Share Image
I'm a good scholar when it comes to reading but a blotting kind of writer when you give me a pen. — John Millington Synge Copy Share Image
They're cheering a young lad, the champion playboy of the Western World. — John Millington Synge Copy Share Image
A man who is not afraid of the sea will soon be drowned, for he will be going out on a day when he… — John Millington Synge Copy Share Image
It is the timber of poetry that wears most surely, and there is no timber that has not strong roots among the clay and… — John Millington Synge Copy Share Image
Drink a health to the wonders of the western world, the pirates, preachers, poteen-makers, with the jobbing jockies; parching peelers, and the juries fill… — John Millington Synge Copy Share Image
