Dubliners

ve ut­ter­ance to my an­ger

talk­ing of faints and worms;

s ladling out my stir­about

had thought his words idle.

But my body was like a harp and her words and ges­tures were like fin­gers run­ning upon the wires.

im­per­turb­able

house, thinly peopled and si­lent, gave dis­tress­ing proph­ecy of fail­ure.

No one would think he’d make such a beau­ti­ful corpse.”

He had a beau­ti­ful death,

He ran as if to bring me aid. And I was penitent; for in my heart I had always despised him a little