14 Quotes Tagged: irish

That’s the Irish People all over - they treat a serious thing as a joke and a joke as a serious thing.

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

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

The Irish do have a despairing quality of gaiety, but they have also a dour and brooding ghost that rides on their shoulders and peers in on their thoughts. Let them laugh too loudly, it sticks a long finger down their throats. They condemn themselves before they are charged, and this makes them defensive always.

The Celt, and his cromlechs, and his pillar-stones, these will not change much – indeed, it is doubtful if anybody at all changes at any time. In spite of hosts of deniers, and asserters, and wise-men, and professors, the majority still are adverse to sitting down to dine thirteen at a table, or being helped to salt, or walking under a ladder, of seeing a single magpie flirting his chequered tale. There are, of course, children of light who have set their faces against all this, although even a newspaperman, if you entice him into a cemetery at midnight, will believe in phantoms, for everyone is a visionary, if you scratch him deep enough. But the Celt, unlike any other, is a visionary without scratching.

The great Gaels of Ireland are the men that God made mad,
For all their wars are merry, and all their songs are sad.

It’s funny – you Irish are so like the Serbs.

The earth makes a sound as of sighs and the last drops fall from the emptied cloudless sky. A small boy, stretching out his hands and looking up at the blue sky, asked his mother how such a thing was possible. Fuck off, she said.

But he calls down a blessing on the blossom of the may,
Because it comes in beauty, and in beauty blows away.

"As a member of the Protestant British squirearchy ruling Ireland, he was touchy about his Irish origins. When in later life an enthusiastic Gael commended him as a famous Irishman, he replied "A man can be born in a stable, and yet not be an animal.

More than loud acclaim, I love
Books, silence, thought, my alcove.

Pangur Bán
Poem by Anon Irish Monk, Translated by Seamus Heaney

Her smile increased. She had perfect white regular teeth; Irish, Juliana decided. Only Irish blood could give that jawline such femininity.

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.

Writing in English is the most ingenious torture ever devised for sins committed in previous lives. The English reading public explains the reason why.