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James Joyce

 The Dead

It was falling, too, upon every part of the lonely churchyard on the hill where Michael Furey lay buried. It lay thickly drifted on the crooked crosses and headstones, on the spears of the little gate, on the barren thorns. His soul swooned slowly as he heard the snow falling faintly through the universe and faintly falling, like the descent of their last end, upon all the living and the dead.

The girl glanced back at him over her shoulder and said with great bitterness:

`The men that is now is only all palaver and what they can get out of you.'

Gabriel coloured, as if he felt he had made a mistake, and, without looking at her, kicked off his goloshes and flicked actively with his muffler at his patent-leather shoes.

`The late lamented Patrick Morkan, our grandfather, that is,' explained Gabriel, `commonly known in his later years as the old gentleman, was a glue-boiler.'

That was all very well; but now comes the tragic part about Johnny

The never-to-be-forgotten Johnny,' said Mary Jane, laughing.

He was dressed in a long green overcoat with mock astrakhan cuffs and collar and wore on his head an oval fur cap.

Someone is fooling at the piano anyhow,

Close the door, somebody. Mrs Malins will get her death of cold