'Where the deuce did that broganeer, O'Flaherty, come from?' said Cluffe, confidentially, to old Major O'Neill. 'A Connaughtman,' answered the major, with a grim smile, for he was himself of that province and was, perhaps, a little bit proud of his countryman.

Until the dark fiery soul consents to die, to the light and glory of this temporal nature, the light and glory of eternal nature cannot arise in it as an essential inbirth, and qualify it with these eternal qualities, which it is vainly seeking for amidst temporal effigies.

Conscience is […] at most times a very faithful and a very prudent admonitor.

You've been divorced four times? Yow!