That They May Face the Rising Sun

...with a rush of feeling he felt that this must be happiness. As soon as the thought came to him, he fought it back, blaming the whiskey. The very idea was as dangerous as presumptive speech: happiness could not be sought or worried into being, or even fully grasped; it should be allowed its own slow pace so that it passes unnoticed, if it ever comes at all.

His abhorrence and fear of alcohol did not extend to his power as host. He kept a huge cupboard of drinks in the station house and loved to serve large measures to visiting relatives--especially those he disliked--about which there was a definite element of spreading bait for garden snails.

Across her face there seemed to pass many feelings and reflections: it was as if she ached to touch and gather in and make whole those scattered years of change. But how can time be gathered in and kissed? There is only flesh.

The days were quiet. They did not feel particularly quiet or happy but through them ran the sense, like an underground river, that there would come a time when these days would be looked back on as happiness, all that life could give of contentment and peace.

... and there were people wandering the town who had no people to meet, who did not want to be alone and were not noticed.

Have you noticed how the journey home always seems to go faster?' he asked, when the pleasure boats came into view as they crossed the Shannon by the narrow bridge at Rooskey. 'Of course,' Jamesie answered readily. 'You never know rightly what you are facing into when you're setting out. You always know the way home.