Irish Death Quotes & Sayings

Love is patient. Love is kind. It bears all things. Love never fails. Love is as strong as death. — O.R. Melling

There is joy in the search for knowledge about the universe in all its manifestations. — Janet Asimov

Choose your attitude every day until eventually it chooses you right back. — Jon Acuff

Finding great songs is the hard part of my gig - it's not as hard as songwriting, that's much more daunting - but I love playing other people's music. — Bonnie Raitt

She had been born with a different name, to a woman with laughing eyes and warmly whispered words of love who'd died degraded and afraid on a misty Irish morning. — C.S. Harris

Death leaves a heartache no one can heal, love leaves a memory no one can steal.
From an Irish headstone — Richard Puz

Owllwin was easiest the most contrary person Cricket had ever known. He was arrogant but humble, cowardly but brave, foolish but wise. He was funny, but sometimes she caught him crying when he was off on his own. It were as if he pushed himself to be a better person in spite of himself, in spite of his own failings, and Cricket secretly admired the fact: not many people were willing to admit they had faults in the first place. — Ash Gray

Irony was new to her and tasted oddly good, like a previously unavailable summer fruit. — Meg Wolitzer

Jesus may love you, but i'm his favourite — Darynda Jones

This was like National Lampoon's Vacation, but with death, property destruction, and an Irish accent. — Abigail Roux

An Irish Airman foresees his Death
I Know that I shall meet my fate
Somewhere among the clouds above;
Those that I fight I do not hate
Those that I guard I do not love,
My country is Kiltartan Cross,
My countrymen Kiltartan's poor,
No likely end could bring them loss
Or leave them happier than before.
Nor law, nor duty bade me fight,
Nor public man, nor cheering crowds,
A lonely impulse of delight
Drove to this tumult in the clouds;
I balanced all, brought all to mind,
The years to come seemed waste of breath,
A waste of breath the years behind
In balance with this life, this death. — W.B.Yeats

Even as Camille's beauty and precocity took form, when pride alone might have nurtured proprietary feelings, she never seemed quite the child Judith was meant to call her own. — Tom McNeal

Freedom of a nation cannot be won by solitary acts of heroism though they may be of the true type, never by heroism so called. — Mahatma Gandhi

How did your mother die?" asked Delk.
"Car accident," Katie replied, gazing out over the water. "She'd been to mass. A tire blew on the way home, and she was gone. I was nineteen, Pather's age, when it happened. My brother was only eleven." She paused. "I do know what you're going through." Katie looked at her.
"Pather told you?" Katie nodded. Delk was glad Pather had told his sister; she was relieved not to have to tell the story again. "Does it ever ... you know ... get any better?"
Katie shrugged her narrow shoulders and smiled. "In some ways it does, but it's a bit like running a long race with a rock in your shoe. You get used to it, but it always hurts a little. — Suzanne Supplee

Always and Forever was about a love bond so strong that it transcends physical limitations and worlds. Love survived death for both Katie and Ronan and Katie the ghost moves between worlds. In death she remained the protector and the strong one in the marriage. A love divinely blessed in church as a marriage and God appointed Katie as his angel to watch over him and sent her as his angel of death to carry him to heaven. Ronan after Katie's death became a medium between Katie and the outside world. He saw her and can talk to her — Annette J. Dunlea

The Irish landowner, partly from laziness but also from an indifferent delicacy, does not interfere in the lives of the people round. Sport and death are the two great socializing factors in Ireland, but these cannot operate the whole time: on the whole, the landowner leaves his tenants and work-people to make their own mistakes, while he makes his. — Elizabeth Bowen

Between 1845 and 1852 the country experienced the single greatest loss of population in world history: in a nation of 8 million, 1.5 million people left. Another million Irish people starved to death, or died from the effects of hunger. Inside of a decade the nation went from being among the most densely populated in Europe to one of the least. — Michael Lewis

Mother put on her serious face. "I can't stand idly by and watch the country go down the Swannee. The political arena is the only logical and reasonable course left open to any decent Irish patriot. Besides, last night the cumann nominated me to contest the seat left vacant by the death of Dinny Blackstone who has represented the area in the Dail for twenty years. Who am I to argue?"
"Sure he's been dead for at least ten years," Rory said. "It's a wonder that anyone finally noticed. — Ferdia MacAnna

Those who've known great sadness have a better appreciation for happiness. Those who've seen death know the value of life. — Suzanne Supplee

I was a big fan of Gary Moore, he was my buddy and I miss him a lot. I loved his playing because you've got that passion; it was sort of a Celtic thing. The Irish and Scots they just go for it and not too worried about looking good. When I was in the states touring, I landed in Seattle to do a gig and one of the fans came to me and told me about Gary's death. It was very hard for me to carry on, it was awful. — Jack Bruce

His death took place on the same day, at the same time of the same month as Katie's: Monday 12th November at 4am in the morning, on her tenth year anniversary. The old radio suddenly came live and the song Immortality by Celine Dion played. Emma proved you can love the man and hate the disease. She was relieved Ronan's suffering had ended and that he had gone before her as he was so ill — Annette J. Dunlea

Nature never set forth the earth in so rich tapestry as divers poets have done; neither with pleasant rivers, fruitful trees, sweet-smelling flowers, nor whatsoever else may make the too-much-loved earth more lovely; her world is brazen, the poets only deliver a golden. — Philip Sidney

Kiana loved birds," Breena told him late one dusky evening. "When she was just a few summers old, she would run beneath them as they flew, her chubby arms stretched out as if tmo take flight alongside them." She sniffed and wrapped her arms around her stomach. "A few weeks before the attack, she told me that she was still going to fly one day. 'I look at the birds, and I see freedom,' she said. 'To soar above the hurt of the world, to be too high for the wars of men to touch you: that is what it means to fly. — Elizabeth Wilson

She'd made life poignant for the Irish. The terror she inspired gave peace its serenity; the pain she caused gave health its lustre; her failure to love made me grateful for my ability to do so, and I realized, far too late, that though I never did or could have loved her as she might have wished, I should have loved her more. — Kevin Hearne

a billion brains may coax undeath
from fancied fact and spaceful time--
no heart can leap, no soul can breathe
but by the sizeless truth of a dream
whose sleep is the sky and the earth and the sea
For love are in you am in i are in we — E. E. Cummings

The worst violence was reserved for the Jews. There were 690 documented pogroms -- with over 3,000 reported murders -- during the two weeks following the deceleration of the October Manifesto. The Rightist groups played a leading role in these programs, either by inciting the crowed against the Jews or by planning them from the start. — Orlando Figes

I'm Irish. I think about death all the time. — Jack Nicholson

Swaggering in the coffee-houses and ruffling it in the streets were the men who had sailed with Frobisher and Drake and Sir Humphrey Gilbert, Hawkins, and Sir Richard Granville; had perhaps witnessed the heroic death of Sir Philip Sidney, at Zutphen; had served with Raleigh in Anjou, Picardy, Languedoc, in the Netherlands, in the Irish civil war; had taken part in the dispersion of the Spanish Armada, and in the bombardment of Cadiz; had filled their cups to the union of Scotland with England; had suffered shipwreck on the Barbary Coast, or had, by the fortune of war, felt the grip of the Spanish Inquisition; who could tell tales of the marvels seen in new-found America and the Indies, and, perhaps, like Captain John Smith, could mingle stories of the naive simplicity of the natives beyond the Atlantic, with charming narratives of the wars in Hungary, the beauties of the seraglio of the Grand Turk, and the barbaric pomp of the Khan of Tartary. — William Shakespeare

Katie informed us that there was a life ever after, a place called Heaven or Eternal Rest where there was no pain or suffering. She forewarned him of his death and his Alzheimer Disease disappeared. He saw a fast rewind replay of his life and he regained his sanity on his deathbed he got an opportunity to say thanks for everything and goodbye to his loved ones. His gift to Emma was a kiss sealing the gift of a ghost whisperer to Emma so he will never abandon her or the kids. They will communicate forever. He will help her through this life and return watching over her and navigate a path for her into the next life, Heaven — Annette J. Dunlea

The world, with all its impossible variegation and the basic miracle of its existence, draws most mourners out of their grief and back into itself. The homosexual forsythia blooms; the young Irish dancers in Killarney dance, their arms as rigid as shovel handles; secret deals are done involving weapons or office space or crude oil or used cars or drugs; new lovers, believing they will never really have to get up, lie down together; the Large Hadron Collider smashes the Higgs boson into view; snow drapes its white stoles on the bare limbs of winter; the crack of the bat swung by a hefty Dominican pulls a crowd to its feet in Boston; bricks for the new hospital in Phnom Penh are laid in true courses; the single-engine Cessna lands safely in an Ohio alfalfa field during a storm. How can you resist? The true loss in only to the dying, and even the won't feel it when the dying's done. — Daniel Menaker

The Irish have a flair for wringing from death the last drop of emotion and they do not quite understand those who react otherwise. — Dervla Murphy

Funny how the universe repeated patterns ad infinitum, generation after generation, until someone finally turned around and started walking in the other direction. — Selena Kitt

Politics is just a function of business now, just a tributary of the great entrepreneurial capitalist system. — David Hare

What a woman you are," he murmured, and she heard the emotion in it, the
way the Irish thickened just a bit in his voice. And saw it in those vivid eyes when he drew back. "That you would think of this. That you would do this."
He shook his head, kissed her. Like the breath, long and quiet.
"I can't thank you enough. There isn't enough thanks. I can't say what this means to me, even to you. I don't have the words for it." He took her hands,
brought them both to his lips. "A ghra. You stagger me."
He framed her face now, touched his lips to her brow. "You're the beat of my heart, the breath in my body, the light in my soul. — J.D. Robb

It was a romantic tale saying we were more than our bodies our soul lives on after death. We shed the outer body but the important bits the soul and heart lives on for eternity — Annette J. Dunlea

Katherine is the master of anger; she dominates anger. She takes anger in her hands and twists its neck, ripping its head off. She throws anger against the wall and stomps it to death. Her voice rises, it changes, it conjures up ghosts and cusses in a spitting Irish brogue. Then, when she's tapped out empty, she picked anger up between her a thumb and a forefinger and carries it outside and drops it in the trash. On her way back, she scoops up forgiveness like a bouquet, sniffs it deep and arranges it in a vase. She sets forgiveness down, shining in the middle of everything. — Colleen Clayton

Irish? In truth I would not want to be anything else. It is a state of mind as well as an actual country. It is being at odds withother nationalities, having quite different philosophy about pleasure, about punishment, about life, and about death. At least it does not leave one pusillanimous. — Edna O'Brien

It was like the violence of the world he'd grown up in had embedded itself in him, taken root, and could never be fully excised.
He'd never been able to escape death. Apparently, he was a good Irish Catholic after all — S.E. Jakes

Oh, trust me Sydney Tar Ponds, you aren't the first Personification to be forgotten by somebody ordinary," Mearth sighed with a falsely-reassuring smile. Alecto stepped back from her, glaring hatefully. "Sydney Tar Ponds," Mearth added, "I've had so many ordinary people as friends in my life that by now I've forgotten all their names. At first it was difficult ... very sad ... to see them always leaving, dying, disappearing, ignoring, but after a while I realized that they weren't worth the trouble. I'd rather be in the company of other Personifications. At least they aren't always dropping dead like houseflies or sailing away to parts unknown. Nil sa saol seo ach ceo, i ni bheimid beo, ach seal beag gearr. Wouldn't you agree?"
"No," Alecto told her. "I think you're insane. — Rebecca McNutt

This is the ultimate narcissistic white-girl game. I would picture how I would handle the attack differently. Or the same. Inevitably, I'd think about my own death, which next to staring at your face in a magnifying mirror is probably the worst thing you can do for yourself. The ambulance-chasing aspect combined with the Monday-morning quarterbacking of it all is the luxury afforded to those of us left untouched by trauma. Sometimes I would use these tragedy-porn shows to unlock deep feelings or cut through the numbness. I would read terrible stories to punish myself for my lucky life. Some real deep Irish Catholic shit. Either way, it was all gross and all bad for my health. — Amy Poehler