Choose your companions from the best; Who draws a bucket with the rest soon topples down the hill.

I'd as soon listen to dried peas in a bladder, as listen to your thoughts.

When you are old and gray and full of sleep, and nodding by the fire, take down this book and slowly read, and dream of the soft look your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep.

Accursed who brings to light of day the writings I have cast away.

Cast your mind on other days that we in coming days may be still the indomitable Irishry.

But I, being poor, have only my dreams; I have spread my dreams under your feet; Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.