Word: irishmen
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...keeping every living human soul psychologically conditioned simultaneously. In history up to date, there has been no schooling that has been able to guarantee to tyrants that their subjects will not revolt at last at some intolerable turn of the screw. The revolting-point may be reached sooner in Irishmen than in Germans, and sooner in Germans than in Russians or in Chinese; but in all human beings, hitherto, there has always been a point at which the worm has turned. Even when we have made all allowance for the application of new psychological techniques in the service of tyranny...
...Literate Irishmen like to recall the days when their country used to toss huge logs -Joyce, Yeats, Synge-on the fires of 20th century literature. Last month Dublin's Irish Times keened over the current era of matchstick prose and poetry: "Search the horizon as we will, we can see no budding poet, no young incipient novelist . . . The Irish literary Hamlet has expired; the rest is silence." The horizon-searching Irish Times has apparently overlooked a 44-year-old Belfast schoolteacher named Michael McLaverty, who is admittedly no Hamlet, but whose novels make first-rate kindling for a homely...
...Irishmen believed that such a shaky coalition could long endure, yet Dev's stern refusal to ease their lot by deficit spending or careless borrowing made them blind to any other risk. "We knew we would be unpopular for increasing taxation and removing [food] subsidies," said Dev, "but we either had to do our duty or not, and we did our duty...
...reputation (huge trunks and teeny minds), authorities on gas, bishops, bestsellers, editors looking for writers, writers looking for publishers, publishers looking for dollars, existentialists, serious physicists with nuclear missions, men from the BBC who speak as though they had the Elgin marbles in their mouths, potboiling philosophers, professional Irishmen (very lepri-corny), and, I am afraid, fat poets with slim volumes...
...seldom devised a more demanding steeplechase than the Grand National at England's Aintree with its 4½-mile course and 30 jumps over brush, fence, rail and water, including famed, treacherous Becher's Brook. Last week a crowd of 250,000, including a big contingent of Irishmen and a flock of hopeful holders of Irish Hospital Sweepstakes tickets, turned out to watch the 108th running of the Grand National and shudder at the spills. The footing was soggy and spills came early: three horses went down at the first jump, two at the second. Only nine...