Irish Quotes - Page 2

Margaret looked at the ring on her finger. "Gran gave me this before we boarded the ship. It's the most special thing in the world to me. I'll never take it off, Hanna. No matter how hungry I am.

Hating is easy. It's loving that's hard

Imagine if we were all magical leprechauns, and every wish ever made on a four-leaf clover obliged us to help others obtain their wishes. Now imagine if people simply lived like this were true.

Be sure to wear greenon March seventeen,or else Irish leprechauns pinch your bones clean!

Oh, now my Erin, she'd smile down on me no matter where I walked." Grandpop smiled that little smile again. "But I'd be separated from her, and I'd feel that separation in my soul, you see?"Nathan shook his head.Grandpop sighed. "You have the Irish eyes, boy. One of these days, you'll see from eyes, not your own, feel with a heart outside your chest. Wild Irish eyes. Nathan. When you love, love well and love true, and take care, lad, because those Irish eyes are windows into not just your own soul, but the soul of the one you love." Grandpop looked out at his Erin's grave."And when you lose that heart, you can't leave the places where your memories are the best. And if I left her, I'd not be buried beside her.

I think being a woman is like being Irish... Everyone says you're important and nice, but you take second place all the time.

There was a dark aura about him, a hint of caged power in that deceptively casual, sprawled poise. Danger personified.If this had been a film she would have expected to hear the warning wail of an electric guitar creep over the soft background bustle of the city.

She knew them by their thick woven cloaks, their hanging hair and beards, and their Anglisc voices: words drumming like apples spilt over wooden boards, round, rich, stirring. Like her father’s words, and her mother’s, and her sister’s. Utterly unlike Onnen’s otter-swift British or the dark liquid gleam of Irish. Hild spoke each to each. Apples to apples, otter to otter, gleam to gleam, though only when her mother wasn’t there.

All I know is what the words know, and dead things, and that makes a handsome little sum, with a beginning and a middle and an end, as in the well-built phrase and the long sonata of the dead.

To be Irish is to know that in the end the world will break your heart.

Identify yourself,” Colleen demanded. “I’ve got a bat and I will beat the living shit out of you if you so much as blink. I’ve got a black belt,” she lied frantically, “and…and…a gun. A big one.” - Colleen O’Brien

Our place is here, our time is now!" Killian firmly declared.

... I've a thirst on me I wouldn't sell for half a crown.- Give it a name, citizen, says Joe.- Wine of the country, says he.- What's yours? says Joe.- Ditto MacAnaspey, says I.- Three pints, Terry, says Joe. And how's the old heart, citizen? says he.

He had been thinking of how landscape moulds a language. It was impossible to imagine these hills giving forth anything but the soft syllables of Irish, just as only certain forms of German could be spoken on the high crags of Europe; or Dutch in the muddy, guttural, phlegmish lowlands.

I shall ne'er chase rainbows again, Knowing no pot o' gold awaits at the end. My Irish treasure is not there. For ye, my love, abide with me here.

I'm Irish yet I don't drink as I refuse to be a stereotype and live down to the expectations of others.

The sea, the snotgreen sea, the scrotumtightening sea.

I've no plans to couple with anyone other than my new bride for the next century or so, and it feels as though it's takin' a century to get to it!

more guilt, guilt, guilt. That's the Irish condition.

May you have the hindsight to know where you've been, The foresight to know where you are going, And the insight to knowwhen you have gone too far

As she glanced down at the great distance to the ground below, she whispered in his ear, "You have obviously taken the heights of passion to an entirely new level, Killian O'Brien!

Being Irish, he had an abiding sense of tragedy, which sustained him through temporary periods of joy.

His deep voice drifted to her through the crowd of women. “…my lady when she returns. Och, there ye are, Blossom,” Faolán grinned, standing up and taking her hand so she could ease back into the restaurant booth. “These lasses were just asking if I was a stripper. I told them I doona think so,” he said, his face clouded with uncertainty. “I’m not, am I?”The inquisitive lasses in question flushed scarlet and scattered to the four corners of the room at the murderous look on Colleen’s face. “No, you’re not, but I guess I can see how they’d think that,” she muttered darkly. “What you are is a freaking estrogen magnet.

More than loud acclaim, I loveBooks, silence, thought, my alcove.Pangur BánPoem by Anon Irish Monk, Translated by Seamus Heaney

She let her mind drift, thinking about new lingerie designs, wishing she'd brought along her sketchpad. Inspiration could strike at the most inconvenient times--in the shower, in the car, on this road--but she was grateful it was with her again, an old companion with whom she was getting reacquainted, pleased to find they could take up where they'd left off, as if there'd been no estrangement at all.

If Canada had a soul (a doubtful proposition, Moses thought) then it wasn't to be found in Batoche or the Plains of Abraham or Fort Walsh or Charlottetown or Parliament Hill, but in The Caboose and thousands of bars like it that knit the country together from Peggy's Cove, Nova Scotia, to the far side of Vancouver Island.

To anyone with a drop of Irish blood in them the land they live on is like their mother. It's the only thing that lasts, that's worth working for, for fighting for...

I was born Katie O’Reilly,” she began. “Poor Irish, but proud of it. I boarded the Titanic at Queenstown as a third class passenger with nothing more than the clothes on my back. And the law at my heels.” Titanic Rhapsody

Many people die of thirst but the Irish are born with one.

The Irish way of telling a story is a complex and elaborate one, complete with wild exaggerations, a certain delight in improbable fantasy, and a heightened sense of drama.

An cinniúnt, is dócha: féach an féileacán úd thall atá ag foluain os cionn mo choinnle. Ní fada go loiscfear a sciatháin mhaiseacha: cá bhfios dúinne nach bhfuil a fhios sin aige, freisin?

Only Irish coffee provides in a single glass all four essential food groups: alcohol, caffeine, sugar and fat.

If it’s only a kiss you want, I can kiss you with my clothes on.” Katie O'Reilly to Captain Lord Blackthorn in "Titanic Rhasody.

Lunch looks grand, Meg. You’ve really outdone yourself,” James commented, loading his plate. He frowned down at an escaping carrot extending precariously over the plate edge andeased it back with his fingertip, then grunted and promptly stuck the burnt digit in his mouth. “I’ve been trying to eat better, organic and all. Are these vegetables free range?” he asked with a straight face.The table fell silent as several sets of eyes blinked owlishly back at him. With an equally straight face Beth speared a roasted wedge and studied it. “I don’t think potatoes require muchgrazing room, genius,” she deadpanned.

You were so intent on what your purpose would be. I remember it nearly word for word.""Recite it for me then, my Lainna."She smiled a warm, soft smile, and her eyes filled with light."You would waken in your bedchamber with your lady beside you...

Shamrocks And roses In an ever green flock Now Up to your noses Turning into a high stock! People nice and seen All around you green! These lucky streams Realizing major dreams. In strives, when in pain Call oh call up my name, Know it isn't in vain...

Author? Author? Did you write these legs?''Yes."'Well, I don't like dem. I don't like 'em at all at all. I could ha' writted better legs meself.