J. P. Donleavy Quotes

Balthazar B standing on this grey wet pavement. The rain falling through a halo of lamplight. A post office, butcher, grocer and newsagent. Lonely houses behind high hedges. The wind with a seaweed smell off the sea. This girl thinly standing, clutching her handbag. The rear red light of the taxi still seen after its sound is gone.

Four o'clock on this oblong Tuesday, Sebastian pushing through the door of a secret public house, moved cautiously to an empty space at the bar. Bartender suspiciously approaching him.
"I want a triple Irish, Gold Label. Quickly please."
"Sir, I'm afraid I can't serve you."
"You what?"
"Can't serve you, sir, rules of the house, you've had enough to drink."
"I've had enough to drink? What on earth do you mean?"
"I think, sir, you've had sufficient unto your needs now. I think you've had enough now."
"This is contemptible."
"Peacefully sir, now. Keep the peace. When you're sober, sir, now, be very glad to serve you. Little sleep. You'll be fine."
"Frightful outrage. Are you sure you're not drunk yourself?"
"Now sir, a place and time for everything."
"Well for Jesus sake."
Sebastian turned from the bar pushed out through the door and along the street. In dazed condition.

On Being Old. It's not nice but take comfort that you won't stay that way for ever.

Strength comes from struggle.

Life getting like a merrygoround with people getting on and off and no one paying for the ride.

Foxy said the whole country was night and day asking God for favours. And you'd never get a chance to slip your own in. Especially if they had any old uncles or aunts to die to leave them a bit of land, they'd say dear Jesus would you ever strike the fuckers dead.

Mr Dangerfield, why don't you believe in hell and things like that?
"Hell is for poor people."

Reach up to put a hand to some dream you kept awake. Now you take it like a red ripe apple and polish quietly up and down one's sleeve.

The inhabitants will always see both sides of an argument so long as it can result in a fight.

It would seem in life when all is said and done that it is unwise to speak to anyone if it can be avoided.

Tongues never still. Wagging and wagging. In one shopkeeper's ear and out to a dozen others. And in a thrice don't they have the whole story all over Ireland.