Eat this great bowl of emptiness. - J. P. Donleavy

Along the Liffey quays this night, puddles of water on the cobble stoned street. Lonely lamplights. Coal dust and barrels, crates and bundles of wire. Great shadows of the gas tank rearing in the sky. A whiff and sniff and smell of pine timber.
Wild shadows against a sky faintly purple. Clouds rolling with moonlit edges. The blast of a ship's whistle. A hawser splashing in the water. Up in the crystal night the ship's red light. Trembling engines as the great black silhouette moves out on the flowing river.

"Turn to gangsterism."
"Sebastian, I couldn't."
"Tone, pride has you at its mercy."
"Has me by the very ballocks."
"Tony, I think a pint would see us right."
"I think you're right for the first time since you last said that."

And dear God
Give me strength
To put my shoulder
To the wheel
And push
Like the rest.