#ireland

The best thing about flying first class....was that you could be as nutty as a fruitcake and were still treated like the Queen of Sheba. ↗

— Sarah-Kate Lynch

#marriage #travel #marriage

Ireland Quinn Brady," he finally moved forward with an extended pointer finger to push me back down. "You are exceptional and beautiful and everything I wish I could be. I cant believe that you happened to me, and I promise every tomorrow we have together will be better than the last. This I will tell you over and over and over again until I take my last breath. I love you. ↗

— Leah Crichton

#love #orion #beauty

Iar gclos báis Mháire i dtuairim cháich má fágbhadh m'ainnir faoi fhód, níor bhuadhaigh bás ar Mháire im mheabhair-se fós. ↗

— Pádraigín Haicéad

#death #gaeilge #gaelic #grá #ireland

Bí ann nó as táimse ag triall Ort agus má tá cuirim geasa Ort mé a shábháil ón dream a deir gur fear fuar sa spéir Thú. ↗

— Caitlín Maude

#caitlín-maude #faith #gaeilge #god #ireland

I still don't know why we didn't hire a car to get around Ireland." "When I was a kid, I always dreamed about living in Ireland. I used to pretend I was one of the traveling people, driving my gypsy wagon from village to village. Used to picture a dark gypsy kidnapping me and having his way with me. Exciting stuff." Katy grinned at her. "Could still happen, you know." "Katy, we have a horse that's so laid-back I have to keep checking to see if he's dead. ↗

— Nina Bangs

#humor #ireland #dreams

Just remember, it's an easy place to be at home in, Ireland. I think the people are very skilled at relating. I notice, watching the different nationalities on the mountain, the fluidity of interaction the Irish people have with the visitors, and with each other. It's a skill that's less developed in other nationalities, and it's so instinctive it doesn't even look like a skill. ↗

— Pete McCarthy

#home

Fookin' Irish, they're a race of political masochists, they love their fookin' chiefs and princes an' a strong hand belting. It's like the man said in the play, Abair and focal republic i nGaoluinn? ↗

— Gwyneth Jones

#politics #love

So does nobody care about Ireland?" "Nobody. Neither King Louis, nor King Billie, nor King James." He nodded thoughtfully. "The fate of Ireland will be decided by men not a single one of whom gives a damn about her. That is her tragedy. ↗

— Edward Rutherfurd

#england #ireland #war #men

Tom looked more and more like a rabbi. As is the way of men of character in provincial towns, he tended to become a collection of mannerisms, a caricature of himself. ↗

— Frank O'Connor

#priest #rabbis #men

Early Summer, loveliest season, The world is being colored in. While daylight lasts on the horizon, Sudden, throaty blackbirds sing. The dusty-colored cuckoo cuckoos. "Welcome, summer" is what he says. Winter's unimaginable. The wood's a wickerwork of boughs. Summer means the river's shallow, Thirsty horses nose the pools. Long heather spreads out on bog pillows. White bog cotton droops in bloom. Swallows swerve and flicker up. Music starts behind the mountain. There's moss and a lush growth underfoot. Spongy marshland glugs and stutters. Bog banks shine like ravens' wings. The cuckoo keeps on calling welcome. The speckled fish jumps; and the strong Swift warrior is up and running. A little, jumpy, chirpy fellow Hits the highest note there is; The lark sings out his clear tidings. Summer, shimmer, perfect days. ↗

— Marie Heaney

#fionn-mac-cumhaill #folklore #ireland #poetry #summer