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St Patrick S Day Quotes

Browse 23 quotes about St Patrick S Day.

St Patrick S Day Quotes

“Shamrocks And roses In an ever green flock Now Up to your noses Turning into a high stock! People nice and seen All around you green! These lucky streams Realizing major dreams. In strives, when in pain Call oh call up my name, Know it isn't in vain...”

ReligiousChanceDreamsCallingLuckyTraditionLuckSaintCharmHelpBeliefsWishesRosesIrishSt PatrickLucky CharmsSt Patrick S DayShamrocksSaint Patricks DayLuck SpellsSaint PatrickSt Paticks DaySaint PaddySaint Pat
Book:ACross Tic
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“You don’t believe in leprechauns. A myth you say they be. You don’t believe in pots-o-gold, or four-leaf-clover tea. You don’t believe the rainbow’s end alights on treasured finds. They are illusions meant for fools you say ‘ave lost their minds. You don’t believe in whispering your wishes to the wind, where on St. Patrick’s holiday they blow t’wards Ireland. You don’t believe in magic spells or longings coming true. Yet, head-to-toe you dress in green on Patty’s Day, you do.”

PoetryPoemRichelle GoodrichRichelle E GoodrichLeprechaunsSt Patrick S DayMarch 17St Patty Day
Book:Being Bold: Quotes, Poetry, & Motivations for Every Day of the Year
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“Corned beef and cabbage and leprechaun men. Colorful rainbows hide gold at their end. Shamrocks and clovers with three leaves plus one. Dress up in green—add a top hat for fun. Steal a quick kiss from the lasses in red. A tin whistle tune off the top of my head. Friends, raise a goblet and offer this toast— 'The luck of the Irish and health to our host!'”

GreenRichelle GoodrichRichelle E GoodrichRichelleCabbageIrishLeprechaunsSt Patrick S DayCloverCorned BeefSaint Patricks DayLassesShamrock
Book:Making Wishes: Quotes, Thoughts, & a Little Poetry for Every Day of the Year
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“Did you know ‪#‎Leprechauns‬ didn't start out in Ireland as those short little redheaded guys sporting green felt suits? #Leprechauns were once fierce warriors who protected the coast from marauders and defended the land. Then Christianity showed up and decided to do away with all that, and they downplayed the heroic actions of those warriors to the extent that we see them as the iconic little guys with pots of gold today. Nothing quite like a group of gossiping Christians to turn the tide on historical events, huh? Have a look at my story and see how magic reveals the true nature of one Michael McKnight, the ‪#‎Leprechaun‬ of Three Wishes. Treat yourself to a St. Patrick's Day Lunchbox Romance”

FaeWarriorsLeprechaunsSt Patrick S DayIrish RomanceRiverstreet BarSavannah Authors
Author:Paula Millhouse
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“So you really think these all represent different holiday lands?" he asked, pulling open the door with the large bird on it. "What do you think this one could be?" "A holiday to honor turkeys?" Sally guessed. Though somehow that didn't sound quite right. "Maybe," Jack mused. "But why would anyone want to honor a turkey? They're such dumb birds. Really, the only good thing to do is eat them." He closed the door, then headed over to the tree with the heart on it. "This one's probably Dissection Town," he decided. "They spend all year long harvesting organs, and one day a year they gather together to eat them." Sally made a face. "Or maybe it's Love Town?" she suggested. "And their holiday is filled with lots of romantic proclamations?" Jack looked disappointed by this idea. He moved on to the tree with the four-leafed plant. "Garden Town," he pronounced. "They're completely vegetarian. And they hate turkeys with a passion.”

ThanksgivingDifferent WorldsAssumptionsValentines DayUnawareSt Patrick S DaySally And JackJack Skellington
Book:Sally's Lament
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“IRELAND Spenserian Sonnet abab, bcbc, cdcd, ee What is it about the Kelly velvet hillsides and the hoary avocado sea, The vertical cliffs where the Gulf Stream commences its southern bend, Slashing like a sculptor gone mad or a rancorous God who’s angry, Heaving galaxies of lichen shrouded stones for potato farmers to tend, Where the Famine and the Troubles such haunting aspects lend, Music and verse ring with such eloquence in their whimsical way, Let all, who can hear, rejoice as singers’ intonations mend, Gaelic souls from Sligo and Trinity Green to Cork and Dingle Bay, Where fiddle, bodhran, tin whistle, and even God, indulge to play, Ould sod to Beckett, Wilde and Yeats, Heaney and James Joyce, In this verdant, welcoming land, ‘tis the poet who rules the day. Where else can one hear a republic croon in so magnificent a voice? Primal hearts of Celtic chieftains pulse, setting inspiration free, In genial confines of chic caprice, we’re stirred by synchronicity.”

IrelandSonnetsSt Patrick S Day
Book:Sonnets from New England: Love Songs
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“February Soup by Stewart Stafford The February fog, Turns all into blobs, Orange street lights, To Valentine's Night. When the wind strays, Fog's mantle is grey, Laying misty bouquets, On barren, muddied days. The daffodils of March, Can cheer up Plutarch, Adorned in Kelly green, No sign of foggy screens. © Stewart Stafford, 2023. All rights reserved.”

WinterWeatherMarchFogMistFebruaryFoggySt Patrick S DayDaffodilsWeather Conditions
Author:Stewart Stafford
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“On St. Patrick's Day, the traditional Irish family would rise early and find a solitary sprig of shamrock to put on their somber Sunday best. Then they'd spend the morning in church listening to sermons about how thankful they should be that St. Patrick saved such a bunch of ungrateful sinners. Nobody wore green clothing as it was considered an unlucky color not suitable for church.”

Irish HistorySt Patrick S DayIrish HumorIrish Trivia
Book:F*ck You I'm Irish: Why We Irish Are Awesome
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“A Magnum Paucity by Stewart Stafford Build the nation's mausoleum, Light the people's funeral pyre, For Hibernia's sons and daughters, In genocide to expire. Romantic Ireland has no grave, It died foraging at the roadside for bites, Or on a coffin ship out of reach of the New World, An empire's boot on the throat for last rites. Did you know your identity all along? Or find it struggling and aghast? Old Eireann was the first expendable colony, And egregiously, not Britannia's last. Constricting stomachs do not growl patriotic oaths, Freedom is a stranger to a starved mind, Force-feed our children grapes of wrath, With liberation dead on the vine. © Stewart Stafford, 2022. All rights reserved.”

HistoryIrelandStarvationFamineBritish EmpireIrish HistorySt Patrick S DayPotato FamineThe IrishEmigration And Immigration
Author:Stewart Stafford
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“Magazine Street was a sea of green. Piper reveled in the pleasure and satisfaction of having finished the scene in her first feature film as she made her way through the crowds and watched the floats decorated by New Orleans marching clubs. The float riders threw carrots, potatoes, moon pies, and beads to the onlookers gathered on the sidewalk. Pets joined in the festivities as well, sporting leprechaun attire and green-tinted fur. Under a bright sun and a clear blue sky, families and friends were gathered for the opportunity to celebrate one of the biggest street parties of the year. Some set up ladders along the parade route, climbing atop for the best views. Others scaled trees and found perches among the branches. "Hey, mister, throw me something!" yelled a man next to Piper. Waving hands rose in the air as a head of cabbage came hurtling from the float. Everyone in the crowd lunged for it. The person who snagged it was roundly congratulated for the catch. "What's with the cabbage?" Piper asked the man standing next to her. "They aren't supposed to throw them, just hand them out. Somebody could get hurt by one of those things." The man shrugged. "But the tradition is to cook them for dinner on St. Patrick's Day night.”

TraditionNew OrleansGo GreenSt Patrick S DayParadeGoodies
Book:That Old Black Magic
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“My Éireann by Stewart Stafford Éireann is my maiden, Titian grace spun gold, Fêted for her fairness, A goddess sacrificed. All-seeing eye of piety, But mauled with scars, In repose and melding, With the ire of the land. In perennial motion, Rivers meet the sea, Gaze upon a dark pool, Soubrette for new suitors. © Stewart Stafford, 2022. All rights reserved.”

IrelandCelticSt Patrick S DayGaelic CultureThe IrishIreland SettingEireIreland TravelEireannThe Emerald Isle
Author:Stewart Stafford
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“I’m talking mashed potatoes. Roast potatoes. Sweet potatoes. Potato casserole. Those thinly sliced potatoes with that cheese sauce on them. Potato salad, even.” “Jimmy?” Dallas says with a startlingly sweet smile. “Yeah?” “Shut the hell up about potatoes.” “But they’re the best part of Thanksgiving dinner! Everyone knows that.” “It’s my Irish blood, makes me love the things. Can’t get enough of ‘em.” “Binge-watching Collin Farrell movies while youeat Lucky Charms doesn’t make you Irish, dumbass,” he grouches. “I dress up for St. Patrick’s day, too,” Triple J responds, defensive. I swivel from where I’m removing my shin guards to peer at him. “What the hell do you dress up as for St. Patrick’s day?” He shakes his head at me like I’m incredibly stupid for asking this. “A leprechaun, of course.” Dallas grins. “Surely you don’t even need a costume for that one.”

ThanksgivingPotatoesIrishSt Patrick S Day
Book:Season's Schemings
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