Bobby Sands Quotes

There’s an inner thing in every man, Do you know this thing my friend? It has withstood the blows of a million years, And will do so to the end. It was born when time did not exist, And it grew up out of life, It cut down evil’s strangling vines, Like a slashing searing knife.

And blessed is he man who stands
Before his God in pain
And on his back a cross of woe
His wounds a gaping shame.
For this man is a son of God
And hallowed be thy name.

A guide to me in times of plight A princess like a star so bright For life would never have been the same If I hadn’t of learned what small things came. So forgive me Mum just a little more For not loving you so much before, For life and love you gave to me I give my thanks for eternity.

White walls! White walls! Torturous sprawls,
With ne'er a window space.
And so confined a quaking mind
Goes mad in such a place
The monotony so torturously Cuts deep into the mind,
That men lose hope and just elope
With charge of any kind.

There's rain on the wind, the tears of spirits, The clink of key on iron is near, A shuttling train passes by on rail, There's more than God for man to fear.

There can never be peace in Ireland until the foreign, oppressive British presence is removed, leaving all the Irish people as a unit to control their own affairs and determine their own destinies as a sovereign people, free in mind and body, separate and distinct physically, culturally and economically.

The winds of war came sweeping cruel,
The flower would not cry,
Oh, how it broke the freeman's heart,
To see the first rose die. Some soldiers plucked the garden's joy, And left a burning mark,
Upon the silver petalled bloom,
Now fettered in he dark.

In the gutters lies the black man, dead,
And where oil flows blackest, the streets run red,
And there was He who was born and came to be,
Who lived and died without liberty

It wept by the waters of Babylon, And when all men were a loss, It screeched in writhing agony, And it hung bleeding from the Cross. It died in Rome by lion and sword, And in defiant cruel array, When the deathly word was ‘Spartacus’ Along the Appian Way.

I was a skeleton compared to what I used to be but it didn't matter. Nothing really mattered except remaining unbroken. I rolled over once again, the cold biting at me. They have nothing in their entire imperial arsenal to break the spirit of one single Republican political prisoner-of-war who refuses to be broken, I thought, and that was very true. They can not or never will break our spirit. I rolled over again freezing and the snow came in the window on top of my blankets. Tiocfaidh ár lá' (Our day will come), I said to myself, Tiocfaidh ár lá.

"Son," he said, "one day he caught himself on one of his own traps and no one would assist him to get free. Hist own people scorned him, and turned their backs on him. He grew weaker and weaker, and finally toppled over to die upon the land which he had marred with such blood. The birds came and extracted their revenge by picking his eyes out, and the larks sang like they never sang before."

Its heart was buried in Wounded Knee, But it will come to rise again.

It is found in every light of hope, It knows no bounds nor space It has risen in red and black and white, It is there in every race. It lies in the hearts of heroes dead, It screams in tyrants’ eyes, It has reached the peak of mountains high, It comes searing ‘cross the skies. It lights the dark of this prison cell,
It thunders forth its might,
It is "the undauntable thought", my friend,
That thought that says "I'm right!"

The days were long and lonely. The sudden and total deprivation of such basic human necessities as exercise and fresh air, association with other people, my own clothes and things like newspapers, radio, cigarettes books and a host of other things, made my life very hard.

I am standing on the threshold of another trembling world. May God have mercy on my soul.