Quotes About Ireland

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I go to Ireland. Walk along an empty beach. When I do, I think of all the people who have walked there before, and will walk there again. Then it occurs to me nothing is forever. No matter how bad or how good, everything passes and moves on to another level.

The United Kingdom is nearing its end. It begun to disintegrate with the departure of Ireland in 1922. I think the process will accelerate. We maybe setting on an avalanche, the surface is relatively calm but underneath pillars of Britishness have been seeping away.

Am I sleeping? Have I slept at all? This is the insomnia. Try to relax a little more with every breath out, but your heart's still racing and your thoughts tornado in your head. Nothing works. Not guided meditation. You're in Ireland. Not counting sheep. You count up the days, hours, minutes since you can remember falling asleep.

You're in Ireland the summer after you left college and you're drinking at a pub near the castle where every day bus loads of English and American tourists come to kiss the Blarney Stone.

We compromised on my withdrawal. I didn't. We British don't withdraw from Ireland.

The smell of the earth, so astoundingly fresh: it strikes Brown like a thing he might eat. His ears throb. His body feels as if it is still moving through the air. He is, he thinks, the first man ever to fly and stand at the exact same time. The war out of the machine. He holds the small bag of letters up in salute. On they come, soldiers, people, the light drizzle of gray. Ireland. A beautiful country. A bit savage on a man all the same. Ireland.

There was something in the music of the accent that Douglass liked: it was as if the Cork people put long lazy hammocks in their sentences.

there was always hunger in Ireland. She was a country that liked to be hurt. The Irish heaped coals of fire upon their own heads. They were unable to extinguish the fire. They were dependent,as always, on others. They had no notions of self-reliance. They burned and then poured empty buckets down upon themselves. It had always been so.

How far from real the truth is. I wanted then to take every murdering bastard in Northern Ireland, and have them sleep for a night in my boy's blue rowboat, out on the lough, in the dark, among the reeds, turning in primal celtic patterns.

Bushmills was a Protestant whiskey. Jameson for Catholics.

THE LONDON "SEASON" OF THE YEAR 1886, UPON ITS surface, was much as other and similar seasons had been before it. No blare of sudden trumpets marked its advent. Victoria was still placidly upon her throne; Lord Salisbury—for the second time—had ousted Gladstone from the premier's chair; Ireland was seething with outrage and sedition; and Beecham's Pills were "universally admitted to be a marvellous antidote for nervous disorders.

Nuada of the Silver Hand brought Claiomh Solais (The Sword of Light), from Gorias the flame-bright city that is in the south of the Tuatha De Danaan world. He was the leader of the Tuatha De Danann and King of Ireland. In legend, the sword glowed with a bright light, hence its name. It was irresistible in battle.

In Detroit I was assigned to Bill Isabel and Sam Portwine. They worked as a team, doing public relations, but actually Sam looked to Bill as boss of the team. Bill was about 5?8? and was known for his ability with candy, not the kind you eat, the kind you use to blow things up with — dynamite. Bill was proficient in bombing, and he always packed. Bill was born in Ireland, but he sounded American. He came up through the ranks as a trucker.

Oh Ireland my first and only love Where Christ and Caesar are hand in glove!

The shortest way to Tara is via Holyhead

Ireland sober is Ireland stiff. Lord help you, Maria, full of grease, the load is with me! Your prayers. I sonht zo! Madammangut!

Stephen picks up on Armstrong's pier, and calls Kingstown pier a disappointed bridge (2.22). He's joking about the fact that Ireland wanted to be connected to continental Europe but ended up being extremely isolated.

Usher's Island

Stephen Dedalus / Class of Elements / Clongowes Wood College / Sallins / County Kildare / Ireland / Europe / The World / The Universe goodreads

And a barbarous bloody barbarian he is too, says the citizen.

EPISODE 2   As we there are where are we are we there from tomtittot to teetootomtotalitarian. Tea tea too oo. With his broad and hairy face, to Ireland a disgrace. SIC. Whom will comes over. Who to caps ever. And howelse do we hook our hike to find that pint of porter place? Am shot, says the big-guard.

Unfortunately, in the north and the south of Ireland, intolerant habits are part of the fabric of emotion, part of the identity crisis which afflicts the population of the country.

Unification is less important than the fact Ireland is now conflict-free.