In her straight-ahead photographs of storefronts, an arrangement of shoes or shrink-wrapped furniture becomes a vanitas still life.
'T is warbled by the bird / Whose springtide voice is heard; / 'T is told throughout the vale / By fragrance we inhale; / While every verdant lawn / Reveals it to the dawn.
I was standin' by owld Foley's gate, whin I heard the cry of the hounds coming across the tail of the bog, an' there they wor, my dear, spread out like the tail of a paycock, an' the finest dog fox ye ever seen a sailin' ahead of thim up the boreen, and right across the churchyard.
[He suspected] a chink in his hinder jambeau, for there was a trickling at the back of his leg, although he felt no pain.
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