J. P. Donleavy Quotes

Good larder is a man's salvation.

A tall scholar rushes up the steps to the lectern and Latins out grace. Beseated. A great clatter of shifting chairs. The carvers stand at their long tables sharpening knives. The great joints heaved up on their platters at the serving hatch. Thin harassed faces of these little women stared out across the dark gowned gathering. To catch their breath and go plunging back down again deep into the bowels of this dungeon kitchen. The clank of cutlery. The passing of the jug of beer. Light refreshing ale, a gift from a prosperous brewer.

If you shoot off a chap's kneecaps I hardly think there is point in putting bullets in his liver.

Morning wiping sleepy dust from eyes, Balthazar asked nannie why does everyone cry. Because your father has gone away. Where. To where people go. Where do they go. They pass away. Where. To be with God. Why. Because they are dead. What is dead. Dead is when your heart grows cold. Will my heart ever grow cold. Yes God love you little boy.

"You look so splendid."
"Just my image. The inner Tomson is in a sand storm, the outer one is skiing down the sunny mountain, smiling."
"Shall we bring the inner Tomson somewhere for a cocktail?"
"Let's."

Ambling south along the river past the Watch Museum, where so often one means to visit but never finds the time.

A pity to meet kindness. Lower one's guard. And wham.

Smell weakness and they close in all at once.

What would make you happy, Miss Tomson.
"A guy with a large soul. Not the small sneaky rats careening around these days."

Interesting that in times of terror, when the boom is to be lowered, people you hire to save you trouble and trembling think instantly of their own skins. As things come out of the void to get you. Bullets, buses, trucks, germs.

I, George Smith, hereby make known my last will and testicle. First off I should like to rear up and haunt all those who tried to screw me up while living. Special attention to be given those fuck pigs who have communicated with me by letter attempting thereby to get funds from my unrelenting clutches.

If you don't live with kids they grow to hate you. If you live with them they hate you more. Not a shred of respect. [...] Take my money, and then look me in the eye and say who asked you to be our father.

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

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

Now kneel down in that booth while I give ye me special yule blessing. Get down in that booth. I know you're standing, you dirty ould cheat. Get down. For Jesus, what are you doing, ripping the phone out? Repeat after me, the Lord is my shepherd as I am one of his sheared sheep.
"The Lord is my shepherd as I am one of his sheared sheep."