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Irish Folklore Quotes

Browse 35 quotes about Irish Folklore.

Irish Folklore Quotes

“For no matter whether the fairies are seen metaphorically or as real beings inhabiting their own real world, a study of them shows us that those who came before us (and many of that mindset still survive) realized that we are -- no matter what we may think to the contrary -- very little creatures, here for a short time only ('passing through,' as the old people say) and that we have no right to destroy what the next generation will most assuredly need to also see itself through. If only we could learn that lesson, maybe someday we might be worthy of the wisdom of those who knew that to respect the Good People is basically to respect yourself.”

Good PeopleEnvironmentalismFairiesIrish FolkloreFair FolkEddie Lenihan
Book:Meeting the Other Crowd : The Fairy Stories of Hidden Ireland
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“The Christmas Crasher or Merry Crisis & Happy New Fear (The Yule-Get-Yours Scapegoat) A Poem by Stewart Stafford A malevolent sprite in our living room, A mouldy Púca in the Christmas tree, Bauble-gleam eyes in festive branches, A sulphur stink while we watch TV. Swallowing a window candle flame; A fire-eater’s trick to no applause, Season’s sweets wolfed down— Even wrappers, devoured without pause. A fridge raid’s boozy-woozy walk, A true eggnog nuisance — every inch, Crash — a muffled, 'Timber! God rest ya!' So loud, we thought it was The Grinch! My parents demanded it come out: "A wrecked tree and hangover’s enough!" It pleaded against eviction in the cold, Squatter’s rights for lack of sterner stuff! Seated at the Xmas dinner table, Tossing scraps to our strange ‘pet’ below, Foghorn burp aria, a puked tinsel encore, Pine-needle toothpick snores in fake snow. © 2025, Stewart Stafford. All rights reserved.”

Dark HumorScroogeIrish FolkloreGothic PoetryA Christmas CarolMonty PythonChristmas PoetryHorror PoemThe GrinchHoliday Humor
Author:Stewart Stafford
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“The Winter Gardener" is a similar tale, with the titular gardener replacing the shoemaker, but in this story, the gardener is merely a mortal woman who does not possess a secret identity. After the queen sacrifices herself to save her realm, the gardener plants a snowdrop over her grave, which grows as large as a tree and scatters its seeds across the realm; the tale is often used as an explanation for the perceived advantages of Irish snowdrops over those of other countries.”

GardenerIrish FolkloreFootnoteSnowdrop
Book:Emily Wilde's Compendium of Lost Tales
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“Golden feathers began to fly through the air, and the wedding guests could not at first make sense of it. The oíche sidhe kept whacking and whacking until the serving girl split apart like an overripe plum and became what she had been long ago, though neither she nor the mother who raised her had guessed it---a golden raven, one of the three enchanted birds that the prince had released to bring strife to the kingdom. The serving girl flitted out the window, free at last, while the oíche sidhe dusted their hands and went smilingly back into hiding. They stopped pomading chickens and turning pajamas into evening wear, which was ultimately a relief to the duchess, who had been down to her last nightgown. As for the prince, the serving girl's disappearance finally gave him a purpose in life. He retreated to the wilderness to learn magic from witches and any Folk who would teach him. Eventually he succeeded in turning himself into a raven, whereupon he flew off in search of his beloved. In the northeast of Ireland it is said that he is still searching for his golden bride to this day, and that if you listen closely, you can hear her name in the croaking of the ravens.”

GoldenRavensIrish FolkloreFaerie PrinceFaerie Tale
Book:Emily Wilde's Encyclopaedia of Faeries
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“Once quaking with the thunderous hoofbeats of the Wild Hunt, the ground was now littered with the broken limbs of the fallen, swept into the fray by the raging beasts. Bodies fell like autumn leaves, painting the mossy floor red. Their lifeless eyes stared up at the darkened sky, frozen in time, as yet another plea went unanswered by the goddess. They tried, in vain, to do what no other had done before, to rise up against an enemy made of shadows and hate, magic and malice.”

RomanceFantasyMagicSpellsFaeFolkloreCursesIrish FolkloreThe Cost Of Curses
Book:The Cost of Curses: A Cursed Magic Novel
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“There would be no survivors come morning. There never were. The Hunt left no hearts beating. There was no escaping the Sidhe. Not even the Fomorians, the powerful demons from below the sea, had outrun the pale ones and were driven back into the bellies of their waves and waters. But the Milesians were not demons like the Fomori. When they had come to Éire, they had a goddess blessed right to claim, and claim it they would. With spilled blood, unthinkable bargains and curses that would stain generations to come, the Milesians stood their ground.”

RomanceFantasyMagicSpellsEnemies To LoversCursedFolkloreCursesIrish FolkloreThe Cost Of Curses
Book:The Cost of Curses: A Cursed Magic Novel
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“The Sidhe oathed themselves to the demands of the victors, but nothing was free. Even freedom came with a cost, a debt waiting to be collected. The fading echoes of horses and haunting sounds of horns signaled the end of one era and the beginning of a new age, with the path of sacrifice nearly forgotten by all but the fae.”

RomanceFantasyMagicSpellsEnemies To LoversCursedFolkloreCursesIrish FolkloreThe Cost Of Curses
Book:The Cost of Curses: A Cursed Magic Novel
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“The moment I stepped foot on the grounds of Legacy House, a chill ran down my spine, as if the air was saturated with the ghosts of those who were buried beneath my feet. It wasn’t just a feeling of this place being haunted. It was a certainty. Falias had been born into the belly of war, and if a person stayed still long enough, they’d be able to smell the bones of the fallen. Nothing covered up the stench of the fae or the death that trailed behind them like rotting puppy dogs.”

RomanceFantasyMagicSpellsEnemies To LoversCursedFolkloreCursesIrish FolkloreThe Cost Of Curses
Book:The Cost of Curses: A Cursed Magic Novel
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“The Hand of Souls has an insatiable thirst. Its wicked delights are woven into the fabric of fate itself. It’s power drawing in souls like moths to a flame. As daylight fades and shadows lengthen, its cursed nature reaches out like vines in the night, ensnaring its user. Those who grasp the Hand of Souls are forever marked by its twisted touch, eternally intertwined with the darkness that plagues its very existence.”

RomanceFantasyMagicSpellsDark RomanceEnemies To LoversFaeFolkloreCursesIrish Folklore
Book:The Price of Magic: A Cursed Magic Novel
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“Holy hell,” I whispered as soon as we stepped into the hall leading to Killian’s court. My entire body shivered as it soaked up the energy twisting around us. If rage had a taste, it would be the poisonous nectar that hung in the air of Death House—bitter-sweet and deadly. It smelled like the inside of a used coffin and was just as dark. My skin prickled with a clammy cold sweat, goosebumps rolling over my skin. “There’s nothing holy about this place.” Julian pulled me closer. “I offer you a few words of wisdom in this hellish place. Do not cower here, Fiadh, not for anyone. This is not a place to look weak. Go in there like you own it. Respect is only earned through fear and dominance within these walls, and you don’t want to be seen as the only coward here. The moment they smell weakness, you’re nothing but prey in a room full of blood-thirsty predators.”

RomanceFantasyMagicSpellsDark RomanceEnemies To LoversFaeFolkloreCursesIrish Folklore
Book:The Price of Magic: A Cursed Magic Novel
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“If you touch me in anger again, whether it be by fist or power, I will end you and bring your court to its knees. I will worm my curses and spells so deep into the roots of your territory that it will look like another haunted forest when I’m done. There will be nothing left for the imps to destroy in my name when I am through. I will sell off pieces of my soul to magic just to end you.”

RomanceFantasyMagicSpellsDark RomanceEnemies To LoversFaeFolkloreCursesIrish Folklore
Book:The Price of Magic: A Cursed Magic Novel
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