#irish

Books of the sages of the ages reflect upon in stages; like honey their words on the tongue give due savour.” {Source: A Green Desert Father} ↗

— Richard Mc Sweeney

#esoteric #fashion #freedom-of-thought #ireland #irish-poet

Booze makes brothers like no mothers ever do. ↗

— Killian McRae

#love

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. ↗

— Frank Delaney

#love

Wherever they went the Irish brought with them their books, many unseen in Europe for centuries and tied to their waists as signs of triumph, just as Irish heroes had once tied to their waists their enemies' heads. Where they went they brought their love of learning and their skills in bookmaking. In the bays and valleys of their exile, they reestablished literacy and breathed new life into the exhausted literary culture of Europe. And that is how the Irish saved civilization. ↗

— Thomas Cahill

#irish #literacy #life

A ógánaigh... ná bris an ghloine ghlan 'tá eadrainn (ní bhristear gloine gan fuil is pian) óir tá Neamh nó Ifreann thall 'gus cén mhaith Neamh mura mairfidh sé go bráth? ní Ifreann go hIfreann iar-Neimhe... (Impí) ↗

— Caitlín Maude

#gaeilge #grá #impí #ireland #irish

Ronan was normally a shy guy with the nerdy classes and was never a hit with the babes and thought he was been offered it on a plate. He had died and gone to heaven, been in the limelight was all good. This stout was great stuff it totally relaxed him and made him cool and the babes loved it. Who would have guessed it Ronan was a sex machine? He wriggled his hips and enjoyed the moment oblivious to Katie’s glares and killer looks from the edge of the dance floor. Katie stood with a raised complexion with her hands folded across her chest and tapped her heels in irritation. It did her no good, nobody noticed”. ↗

— Annette J. Dunlea

#annette-j-dunlea #irish-writer #love

Because you’re not a one-night girl, Irish.” (...) “You’re my forever girl. ↗

— K.A. Tucker

#irish #love #love

She blew a warm breeze on his face and rustled his hair and embraced him in a warm haze and he felt her nonthreatening presence. She looked down and saw his face stained with tears, nobody could reach him in his grief but she could. He saw her and blew her a kiss goodbye. She flew down in a haze in a white dress with wings and whispered into his ear “please don’t cry I am in a better place. Marriage was forever. Love and life was forever. My body died but my soul lives on for eternity”. (Katie) “The rain stopped suddenly and the grey sky cleared into a bright blue colour and a glowing warm orange sun appeared to show her appreciation. A perfect blue sky remained on the dark winter’s day until after the ceremony and the hailstone and rain commenced again and the dark sky reappeared as the funeral car drove away ↗

— Annette J. Dunlea

#annette-j-dunlea #irish-writer #love

For you can't hear Irish tunes without knowing you're Irish, and wanting to pound that fact into the floor. ↗

— Jennifer Armstrong

#music #music

Those who’ve known great sadness have a better appreciation for happiness. Those who’ve seen death know the value of life. ↗

— Suzanne Supplee

#when-irish-guys-are-smiling #death