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Irish Literature Quotes

Browse 13 quotes about Irish Literature.

Irish Literature Quotes

“If Niall could see Marianne, he would say: don’t tell me. You like her. It’s true she is Connell’s type, maybe even the originary model of the type: elegant, bored-looking, with an impression of perfect self-assurance. And he’s attracted to her, he can admit that. After these months away from home, life seems much larger, and his personal dramas less significant. He’s not the same anxious, repressed person he was in school, when his attraction to her felt terrifying, like an oncoming train, and he threw her under it.”

LoveGrowthAttractionObsessionNormal PeopleSally RooneyIrish LiteratureIrish FictionContemporary Ficton
Book:Normal People
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“Wicklow's Bounty: Ode to the Irish Strawberry by Stewart Stafford The Garden County's ruby hue; Juicy gush with tart aftertaste, Seeded cream teases the palate, A Summer afternoon without haste. Eireann's pride swallowed so well; Sunburst flesh, chilled bitterness, Enveloped in richest dairy pillows, Feel the divine fingerprint finesse. Amass nature's brief treasures, Don't wait, dear brother/sister, Before frosted breath chokes, Turning land's song into a whisper. © 2024, Stewart Stafford. All rights reserved.”

SummerFruitNostalgiaIrelandFood And DrinkCultural IdentityNature PoetryStrawberryIrish LiteratureSensory Detail
Author:Stewart Stafford
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“Quando parla con Marianne ha una sensazione di riservatezza condivisa. Di sé potrebbe raccontarle tutto, perfino le cose più strane, e lei non andrebbe mai a spifferarlo, questo lo sa. Essere solo con lei è come aprire una porta e chiudersi alle spalle la vita normale. Non ha paura di lei, che in realtà è una persona piuttosto tranquilla, ma teme la sua vicinanza per via del modo sconcertante in cui si ritrova a comportarsi, per le cose che dice, e che di norma non direbbe mai.”

Normal PeopleRooneyIrish LiteratureIntimancyConfidenza
Book:Normal People
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“Stuck In One's Craw by Stewart Stafford Nobody's beeswax,' still, you nosily ask: 'Is it the last supper to eat that fast?' Try blackened potato skin's bitter taste, A heritage of hunger's grim, gaunt waste. From Celtic mist, this heir apparent, My grandparent's grandparent(s), Survived Ireland's holocaust famine, As a local catch, not New World salmon. Crop blight drove their starving plea, With lots cast bleak to die or flee Genetic appetite fed the strongest, Those who eat fastest live longest. © 2025, Stewart Stafford. All rights reserved.”

Social JusticeTraumaDark HumorCultural IdentityElegyIrish HistoryIrish LiteraturePotato FamineHistorical PoetryIrish Famine
Author:Stewart Stafford
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“Happiness was different in childhood. It was so much then a matter simply of accumulation, of taking things - new experiences, new emotions - and applying them like so many polished tiles to what would someday be the marvellously finished pavilion of the self. And incredulity, that too was a large part of being happy, I mean that euphoric inability fully to believe one's simple luck.”

HappinessThe SeaIrish LiteratureJohn Banville
Book:The Sea
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“The Larktown Savannah by Stewart Stafford Pierce the smog-shrouded end of town, A wheezing, mirthless, blushing clown, On the river, logs and sticks past me flew, Ingredients of a swirling, brownish stew. In the bait shop, the condemned crawl, A carvery pub lunch next door for all, The old cinema’s lights are long-dimmed, A long grass lion’s zebra crossing skimmed. Seagulls bomb the blustery bridge; To the water, as to sunset, the midge; An Elvis impersonator’s sparse crowd tell— Rhinestone saviour in Wharf Street’s hotel. © 2026, Stewart Stafford. All rights reserved.”

Dark HumorSurrealismSlice Of LifeModern PoetryIrish LiteratureA Day In The LifeElvis ImpersonatorIndustrial DecayPenny LaneSeaside Town
Author:Stewart Stafford
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