Words, particularly in a play, should have the texture of a crisp, autumn apple. — John Millington Synge
At first I threw my weight upon my heels, as one does naturally in a boot, and was a good deal bruised — John Millington Synge
A low line of shore was visible at first on the right between the movement of the waves and fog — John Millington Synge
A translation is no translation, he said, unless it will give you the music of a poem along with the words of it. — John Millington Synge
A week of sweeping fogs has passed over and given me a strange sense of exile and desolation. — John Millington Synge
Every article on these islands has an almost personal character, which gives this simple life — John Millington Synge
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
Foreign languages are another favourite topic, and as these men are bilingual they have a fair — John Millington Synge
The absence of the heavy boot of europe has preserved to these people the agile walk of the wild animal — John Millington Synge
In this cry of pain the inner consciousness of the people seems to lay itself bare for an instant — John Millington Synge
It is the timber of poetry that wears most surely, and there is no timber that has — John Millington Synge
It gave me a moment of exquisite satisfaction to find myself moving away from civilisation — John Millington Synge
The grief of the keen is no personal complaint for the death of one woman over eighty years — John Millington Synge
The general knowledge of time on the island depends, curiously enough, on the direction of the wind. — John Millington Synge
What is the price of a thousand horses against a son where there is one son only? — John Millington Synge