In Frank McCourt's touching Pulitzer- prize winning autobiography, he sees Ireland through the eyes of a child: "On Sunday mornings in Limerick I watch them go to the church, the Protestants, and I feel sorry for them, especially the girls, who are so lovely, they have such beautiful white teeth. I feel sorry for the beautiful Protestant girls, they're doomed. That's what the priests tell us. Outside the Catholic Church there is nothing but doom. And I want to save them. Protestant girl, come with me to the True Church. You'll be saved and you won't have the doom. After Mass on Sunday I go with my friend Billy Campbell to watch them play croquet on the lovely lawn on Barrington Street. Croquet is a Protestant game. They hit the ball with the mallet, pock and pock again, and laugh. I wonder how they can laugh or don't they even know they're doomed? I feel sorry for them and I say, "Billy what's the use of playing croquet when you're doomed?" He says, "Frankie, what's the use of not playing croquet when you're doomed?" "Angela's Ashes, A Memoir" (1996)