Quotes About Irish

I do a lot of dialects in my act, including Irish, because I grew up in a neighbourhood that was predominantly Irish and Italian.

I grew up in an Irish Catholic family, and I think they force you to watch every James Cagney movie.

Eric Clapton and Jeff Beck made me an Anglophile. I listened to English and Irish artists as a kid, and they were way louder, heavier, and faster than the traditional blues that I was listening to.

I call myself an accidental entrepreneur. I was all set to take up a brewing job in Scotland when a chance encounter with an Irish entrepreneur led me to set up a biotech business in India instead.

Me and Johnny Rotten have been talking about doing a movie of his book, No Irish, No Dogs, No Blacks. We have a script, so hopefully that's going to happen at some point in our careers.

What I've said before, only half in joke, is that everybody in Ireland is famous. Or, maybe better, say everybody is familiar.

I grew up in Manchester in a big Irish family - there are seven of us in all - so my life has always been about role-playing, about doing anything for a laugh. I'm always joking about; that's the way I am.

Her name was Sorcha--the English call it Sarah--and she grew up in a family related to the king of Leinster.

We Irish prefer embroideries to plain cloth. To us Irish, memory is a canvas--stretched, primed, and ready for painting on. We love the "story" part of the word "history," and we love it trimmed out with color and drama, ribbons and bows. Listen to our tunes, observe a Celtic scroll: we always decorate our essence.

What I told you tonight - it isn't my story alone. It belongs to every Irish person living and dead. And every Irish person living and dead belongs to it. And to all the story of Ireland; blood and bones, legends, guns and dreams, Catholics, Protestants, England, horses and poets and lovers.

Worse than the ordinary miserable childhood is the miserable Irish childhood, and worse yet is the miserable Irish Catholic childhood.

When I look back on my childhood I wonder how I survived at all. It was, of course, a miserable childhood: the happy childhood is hardly worth your while. Worse than the ordinary miserable childhood is the miserable Irish childhood, and worse yet is the miserable Irish Catholic childhood.

People everywhere brag and whimper about the woes of their early years, but nothing can compare with the Irish version: the poverty; the shiftless loquacious father; the pious defeated mother moaning by the fire; pompous priests; bullying school masters; the English and the terrible things they did to us for eight hundred long years. Above all -- we were wet.

I grew up in a household that was filled with Scottish and Irish ballads. So I think that the complexity and the melancholy and the languor of them has kind of gotten into my bones and that's the way I write. Now what does it contribute to my books? I don't know; I guess I would say that those are the kinds of books I like to read, books with vivid images and lots of mist and velvet cloaks and stuff. It's not as though I'm setting out to do that; it's just who I am.

Oh, while a man may dream awake, On gentle Irish ground, 'Tis Paradise without the snake - That's easy to be found.

I have keen eyes. I once caught a leprechaun you know." I looked at him skeptically. "Aren't those Irish?" "Sure. He was over in the homeland on an exchange basis. We sent the Irish three turnips and a sheep's bladder in trade." "Doesn't seem like much of a trade." "Oh, I think it was a sparking good one, seeing as to leprechauns are imaginary and all. Hello, Prof. How's your kilt?" "As imaginary as your leprechaun

Watch out for púcas as you travel, lad," Cody said, shaking my hand. "Could be imitating anything out there." "Once again," Tia said as she settled into the seat in front of me, "those are from Irish mythology, you nitwit.

It's not that the Irish are cynical. It's rather that they have a wonderful lack of respect for everything and everybody.

Other people have a nationality. The Irish and the Jews have a psychosis.

It's not that the Irish are cynical. It's rather that they have a wonderful lack of respect for everything and everybody.

If I was willing to serve Mass, it was in memory of my ancestors standing around a rock, in a lonely glen, for fear of the landlords and their yeomen, or sneaking through a back-lane in Dublin, and giving the pass-word, to hear Mass in a slum public-house, when a priest's head was worth five pounds and an Irish Catholic had no existence in law.

When I met Jimmy Burke in 1964, he practically owned New York's Kennedy Airport. If you ask me, they named the place after the wrong Irishman.

Yelling Irish, you can sound like an angry Leprechaun.

I'm born and raised in the Northeast. My parents are Irish immigrants. So our tendency is to shy away from the big yellow ball that comes up in the sky every once in a while.