He had to make up his mind: fleeing into the arms of his handlers or throwing himself on the mercy of the Republican community.

Her mind traveled crooked streets and aimless goat paths, arriving sometimes at profundity, other times at the revelations of a three-year-old.

We put that game out of our mind as soon as it happened. They came out; they played great at their place. We just couldn't withstand the pressure at that point in time. But we think we've gotten a lot better, a lot more poise, and more mature.

He was affable, humorous, unassuming, intelligent. He didn't lead a lavish lifestyle - I doubt if he even owned his own house. He didn't drink too much. He didn't gamble. He didn't drive a flashy car. His wife never wore fur.

In the early days [the 1920s] individual IRA commanders used to sign statements. I'm fairly sure that the name S O'Neill was used in Belfast in the 1940s, but I don't think we know the exact provenance of P O'Neill.

There had to be a moment when he was compromised. He would have had to make a choice between living with the consequences of what they were going to expose about him or deciding to enter into a pact with people who had inflicted so much suffering on his own community, his friends, himself.