Niall Williams

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When my father first took me to Ennis Library I went down among the shelves and felt company, not only the company of writers, but the readers too, because they had lifted and opened and read these books. The books were worn in a way they can only get worn by hands and eyes and minds

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Love ... was part imagination, its web spun as much in the dark lonely separated evenings of longing as in the shared times together

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It is what writers do, imagine and feel the pain of others, sometimes at the expense of feeling their own. Here, then, in these pages is mine, the fear of death, of loss, of unexpressed love. Here is the truth told in a story. And in the telling of it perhaps I have found some way to have courage, to believe

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Non ricordo in che libro fosse. Ma ora è in questo

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Forse ogni poeta è condannato all'insoddisfazione. Dev'essere per colpa della luce che li abbaglia