Wednesday, July 25, 2012
When Trevor charged at them she had nothing to protect herself against the tumult of his fatty orphan’s heart, the saline, mucous, the awful sac of grief so big it burst itself wide open. Peter Carey
Sunday, June 24, 2012
Had de Valera eaten Parnell’s heart
No loose-lipped demagogue had won the day.
No civil rancour torn the land apart.
Had Cosgrave eaten Parnell’s heart, the land’s
Imagination had been satisfied,
Or lacking that, government in such hands.
O’Higgins its sole statesman had not died.
Had even O’Duffy — but I name no more —
Their school a crowd, his master solitude;
Through Jonathan Swift’s clark grove he passed, and there
plucked bitter wisdom that enriched his blood.
Yeats [partly for “enriched” — also, the stolen heart of Laurence Mentula O’Toole]