Suppoſe they be in number infinit, Yet being voyd of Martiall diſcipline, All running headlong after greedie ſpoiles: […] Their careleſſe ſwords ſhal lanch their fellows throats And make vs triumph in their ouerthrow.

I well may gang out, love, but I'll never win home.

“Christ, the thirst on me.” “Sure, it's serious work, all that talk of independence.” The theater's stained-glass doors had first flung open in 1904, all in the hope of “rewriting the Irish identity,” of using culture in the fight[…]

Before I get accused of channelling Camille Paglia, I will clarify this point. I do not think that pussy power is the only, or even the best, form of power for women.