Best 50 of Celtic quotes - MyQuotes
Cattle and metal treasure were the main forms of wealth in ancient Ireland—metal because it was rare, and cattle because they were useful. Cattle provided milk to drink and to make into cheese, and hide and meat after they were dead. If a king demanded tribute from his subjects, it would probably be in the form of cattle—in fact, a wealthy farmer was called a bóiare, or “lord of cows.” In the famous poem Táin Bó Cuailnge, a major war starts because Queen Mebd discovers that her husband has one more bull than she does. Celtic chieftains spent quite a bit of their energy stealing cattle from one another. They even had a special word for this activity, táin. (Cattle raiding wasn’t just an amusement for the ancient Irish; modern Irish people were stealing one another’s cattle well into the twentieth century.)
Finding her voice at last, she asked, “What dreams are you having, sir?” “I dreamt I was in a spring field and a woman stands in the shadows just at the edge of the nearby forest. I haven’t yet seen her face, only her long beautiful hair. I always wake too soon.” He reached up to touch the hawk touchstone around his throat as he described his dream, rubbing it absently between his fingers. Lily lowered her lashes to hide her astonishment. “When you see someone in a dream but cannot see their face, it means you haven’t met them yet,” she explained. “Then perhaps I’ll dream of her again tonight and this time I’ll see her face.” He smiled, reaching across the table to take her left hand and lift it to his lips. “My name is Ian Kelly, and it would give me the greatest pleasure to know yours.” “Lily Evans. Around here I go by Raven.” She raised a shoulder, indicating the gypsy tent. “Lily--indeed, a most beautiful name. Now tell me,” he stared pointedly at her hand, “I see no ring that another has claimed you as his, so my confidence is strengthened. Look at your cards again, milady, and tell me if you see me in your future…
the Celtic belief that the souls of those whom we have lost are held captive in some inferior being, in an animal, in a plant, in some inanimate object and so effectively lost to us until the day (which to many never comes) when we happen to pass by the tree or to obtain possession of the object which forms their prison. Then they start and tremble, they call us by our name, and as soon as we have recognized their voices the spell is broken. We have delivered them: they have overcome death and return to share our life.
Some of my best friends are books.
Marion Zimmer Bradley
The Goddess has a fourth face. It is secret, and you should prey, as I do, as I do Igraine, that Morgause will never wear that face.
I did think there were one or two referees who had a personal thing against me. It wasn't them versus Celtic - it was them against me! I just think they wanted to take me on.
Submitted for your approval--the curious case of Colleen O’Brien and the gorgeous time traveling Scot who landed in her living room.” – Rod Serling
I was born in the island of Ireland. I have Irish traits in me - we don't all have the traits of what came from Scotland, there is the celtic factor... and I am an Irishman because you cannot be an Ulsterman without being an Irishman.
I have a short temper - I think it's part of the Celtic background. I used to be a lot more angry, but I was quite discreet with it.
In the late afternoon, Lily approached Ian as he reclined on the couch sketching. “I’ve got something to ask you,” she said, the tiniest waver in her voice betraying her nervousness. Ian went on high alert and placed his pad and pencil on the coffee table. “What is it, sweetheart?” he managed to get out, keeping his voice even. Lily wrung her hands. “Okay. Now, you don’t have to if you don’t want to, okay? I promise I’ll understand if you say no. Really, I will.” His shoulders slumped in relief and he rescued her hands from each other before either was damaged. “Darlin’, you needn’t be afraid to ask. I would love for you to take me to bed and spend the rest of the day making wild, passionate love to me. Tonight and tomorrow too, if that would make you happy,” Ian assured her. Lily blinked and frowned uncertainly. “Umm…tempting as that sounds, no, that’s not it.” “Need an organ donated, then? I’ve got one in mind just for you.” “This is serious.” She giggled, thumping him on the chest. “Damn right it is. Do you have any idea how long it’s been since I’ve seen you naked?” he said, raising an eyebrow in challenge. “How the hell am I supposed to get better under these horrific conditions? I may end up in therapy yet. See, look, my eye’s already starting to twitch…
Refusing to lean back against him, Colleen sat ramrod straight until they reached the road. “I guess I should say thank you for saving my life,” she muttered then turned and slapped Faolán hard across the face. “And that’s for you having to save it in the first place. And I’m not your woman, you big, arrogant, lying, betraying…faery loving…” She searched for the perfect insult and couldn’t find one, “…Scot.” She gave a very unladylike snort. “Happy now? That fiery enough for you?
His deep voice drifted to her through the crowd of women. “…my lady when she returns. Och, there ye are, Blossom,” Faolán grinned, standing up and taking her hand so she could ease back into the restaurant booth. “These lasses were just asking if I was a stripper. I told them I doona think so,” he said, his face clouded with uncertainty. “I’m not, am I?” The inquisitive lasses in question flushed scarlet and scattered to the four corners of the room at the murderous look on Colleen’s face. “No, you’re not, but I guess I can see how they’d think that,” she muttered darkly. “What you are is a freaking estrogen magnet.
Och, lass. Yer going to have to not do that.” Faolán exhaled. “Creeping up on a man is a dangerous thing, and I confess I’m jumpier than most. Yer feet are soft as a cat’s.” “I wasn’t creeping anywhere, I was going to make coffee and this is my house, I’ll creep anywhere I like,” Colleen muttered with a petulant scowl. “But I wasn’t creeping.
Food shouldn’t be that shade of green, lass.” – Faolán MacIntyre
Yan, tan, tethera, pethera, pimp, Sethera, lethera, hovera, covera, dik; Yan-a-dik, tan-a-dik, tethera-dik, pethera-dik, bumfit, Yan-a-bumfit, tan-a-bumfit, tethera-bumfit, pethera-bumfit, figgit.
Some people are destined to be a lighthouse for a lost comrade.
Once Celtic got their equaliser, they played a sort of anti-football.
I - and there are hundreds of thousands of Irishmen who felt on this subject as I do - have always liked my Celtic countrymen and disliked the English nation; it is a national trait of character, and I cannot help it.
As she peeked through the curtains with the phone in her hand, waiting for the police dispatcher to pick up, she realized there was one thing she did know about the naked stranger in her yard. He had, without a doubt, the finest butt on the planet.
A twinge of fear entered Gwenwhyfar’s heart. It was the first she had heard of the sea farms lying in the path of danger. She wondered what had befallen a different Norseman of her acquaintance. Had her poor bodyguard, Finn, perished in one of those raids?
Nothing is certain in this life; there is little sense in fear of the inevitable. We fight for the things that must change, and pray for matters beyond our control.
Being a Celtic supporter is not always easy, but it is always worthwhile.
Flaws are beautiful differences that have been wrongly considered.
Certainly my only interest is not in Celtic music.
Celtic music will always be around, even if with the mainstream crowds it dies out.
It is Patrick the Legend, of course, who is most engaging and comes to us as something of a happy Celtic party monster.
You turn the lights on and off here and if you can’t sleep and want something to read there are books in the living room…” her voice broke off. “Wait. Can you read?” His chin took a slight tilt upward. “Aye,” Faolán replied, his voice cool, “in English, Gaelic, Latin, or French. My Welsh is a bit rusty, and I doona remember any of the Greek I was taught except for words not fit for a lady’s ears. I can also count all the way up to…” He looked down and wiggled his large bare toes, “…twenty.” – Faolán MacIntyre
Surely there are enough Celtic songs without introducing religion or politics or anything else.
A society that has no respect, no regard for its bards, its historians, its storytellers, is a society in steep decline, a society that has lost its very soul and may never find its way.
There's some familiarity in Celtic music, even if you've never heard that piece of music before.
I am consciously trying not to make it sound Celtic or African.
A good life is never lived without a bit of risk, and this battle is well worth every one.
Trees are silent guards, they are the listeners and they hold knowledge mankind has long forgotten.” - The Wolf and The Druidess
I anoint you with this sacred oil in the name of Brighid Triple Goddess Maiden, Mother, Crone
Tony McManus is the best Celtic guitarist in the world.
I'm a better coach now than when I joined Celtic. The longer you stay in any job, the better you become. If you lose your drive, your enthusiasm, your imagination, that experience is no good.
When Celtic get an opportunity to go above Rangers they've got to jump at it with both hands.
Time has healed the wound, but a scar will always remain. There is no shame in the vulnerable.
Duncan's temper kindled, but it didn't dampen the lust seeping along his nerve endings. He could flatten this persnickety witch, or better yet, weave a love spell and bind her to him. Maybe he'd do just that and have done with things. He clasped his hands behind his back to quash the temptation to summon magic.
Childhood does not last forever,' said Juniper. 'Although I believe the childish soul can endure for an eternity.
I am the Wind that blows across the Sea I am the Wave of the Ocean I am the Murmur of the Billows I am the Bull of the Seven Combats I am the Vulture on the Rock I am a Ray of the Sun I am the Fairest of Flowers I am a Wild Boar in Valour I am a Salmon in the Pool I am a Lake on the Plain I am the Skill of the Craftsman I am a Word of Science I am the Spear-point that gives Battle I am the god who creates in the head of man the Fire of Thought. Who is it that Enlightens the Assembly upon the mountain, if not I? Who tells the ages of the moon, if not I? Who shows the place where the sun goes to rest, if not I? Who calls the cattle from the House of Tethra? On whom do the cattle of Tethra smile? Who is the god that fashions enchantments - the enchantment of battle and the wind of change? ― Amergin
I have always loved Scottish music - all sorts of Celtic, Gaelic music.
When Celtic faced closure in 1994. My feelings then were of disbelief and concern for my mates who were Celtic fans.
At least I don't have to go through with my earlier plan.” Instead, it seemed she soon would meet her end. “I will make it such an end!” she vowed
Cornwall has lots of folk and Celtic music and has that kind of surfer vibe as well. That was my kind of upbringing.
She ran. Deeper, deeper into the mysterious Broceliande forest...
Leigh Ann Edwards
Take me deep into the woods, away from the others and make love to me, Killian, for I cannot bear to be parted from you any longer!” she whispered in his ear.
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.
Ah, life… ’tis a difficult battle to fight,' said Willoughby, 'but the beautiful moments will always make up for the sorrow.
What is deemed as “his-story” is often determined by those who survived to write it. In other words, history is written by the victors...Now, with the help of the Roman historian Tacitus, I shall tell you Queen Boudicca’s story, her-story……