Day 17: Compost O’ the Irish

The artist, like the God of the creation, remains within or behind or beyond or above his handiwork, invisible, refined out of existence, indifferent, paring his fingernails." 
- James Joyce

I always believed that whatever had to be written would somehow get itself written.
-Seamus Heaney

And a little brain food inspired by my hero, George Bernard Shaw:

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