Best 43 quotes in «dublin quotes» category

My most recent visit to the Iveagh Gardens was in the company of my younger daughter. She was sixteen at the time. I had brought her with me to show her a place precious to me, where I was once sweetly and unhappily in love. However, I discovered...that she knew the place well. Her boyfriend...lived nearby, and it was here, on weekdays after school, that they would come to walk, and be together, discussing the great issues of the day, finding out about each other, learning to grow up. As she told me this, in her not unkind though offhand way--the young are entirely deaf to the joggling palpitations of an aged heart--I had a sense of the magical timelessness of such places, and of the uses to which we put them. We change, we age, we stay or move away, and in time we end. The park, however, endures. It is a thought, I think, to comfort, if only by a little, the most distressed of hearts.

Then Mount Jerome for the protestants. Funerals all over the world everywhere every minute. Shovelling them under by the cartload doublequick. Thousands every hour. Too many in the world.

But one of the most fantastic things about Ireland and Dublin is that the pubs are like Paris and the cafe culture. And Dublin, in many ways, is a pub culture.

The original is displayed in a special darkened shrine now called the Treasury, at the eastern end of the library at Trinity College in Dublin, and over 520,000 visitors queue to see it every year, buying colored and numbered admission tickets to the Book of Kells exhibition. More than 10,000,000 people filed past the glass cases in the first two decades after the opening of the present display in 1992. The daily line of visitors waiting to witness a mere Latin manuscript are almost incredible. There are signposts to the 'Book of Kells' across Dublin. The new tram stop outside the gates of Trinity College is named after the manuscript. No other medieval manuscript is such a household name, even if people are not always sure what it is.

When it comes to the wedding bands in Cork, hire only the best, i.e. White Diamond Wedding Band as we deliver 2.5 hours long live entertainment that would keep your guests dancing and entertained.

When you found someone you really loved, everything fitted.

The thought of hurting him ripped me apart. Ripped me so totally, that I knew, I cared more for him than I did myself.

Food in Dublin has gotten immeasurably better than it was. When I was a kid, there weren't a lot of options. Now you're overwhelmed with options.

Can it be possible that the painters make John the Baptist a Spaniard in Madrid and an Irishman in Dublin?

Dublin City was quiet when they reached the Waxwork Museum, as if it was holding its breath.

Fabulous place, Dublin is. The trouble is, you work hard and in Dublin you play hard as well.

by the general love of scandal and detraction in Dublin, one might reasonably imagine they were all to feed themselves through the holes which they had made in the characters of others.

England was never my home. I had a home there but Dublin is my home so leaving Ireland was the hardest thing I had to do.

I came to Ireland 20 years ago as a student, hitch-hiking round for a week and staying in Dublin.

I attended the bedside of a friend who was dying in a Dublin hospital. She lived her last hours in a public ward with a television blaring out a football match, all but drowning our final conversation.

If you remove the English army to-morrow and hoist the green flag over Dublin Castle, unless you set about the organisation of the Socialist Republic your efforts would be in vain.

I don't think America has ever had a center the way London is the center of England or Dublin is the center of Ireland.

If Blake said that, said Father Brian, he never lived in Dublin.

If you're from Dublin, for example, chances are you live with your family, if you're lucky enough to, right up to the mid-20s. And most of the people I know, when they finally sort of set off on their own, they don't stray all that far.

It's a big con job. We have sold the myth of Dublin as a sexy place incredibly well; because it is a dreary little dump most of the time.

I saw Damien Rice in Dublin when I was 13, and that inspired me to want to pursue being a songwriter... I practised relentlessly and started recording my own EPs. At 16 I moved to London and played any gigs I could, selling CDs from my rucksack to fund recording the next, and it snowballed from there.

I'm not recognised that much. I'm just a bald man in glasses and there's a rash of them in Dublin. It'd be different if I had a mohican.

It's not easy making a living as a writer, and for many years I worked at a Waterstones in Dublin. It was a good environment for an aspiring writer, with lots of events and authors appearing.

I was happy in Dublin because it is very cosmopolitan.

I've only been to Dublin once, and I had a great time. I got completely soaked because it was rainy.

I was court-martialled in my absence, and sentenced to death in my absence, so I said they could shoot me in my absence.

My Dublin wasn't the Dublin of sing-songs, traditional music, sense of history and place and community.

James Joyce wrote the definitive work about Dublin while he was living in Switzerland. We're all where we come from. We all have our roots.

So you need hardly spell me how every word will be bound over to carry three score and ten toptypsical readings throughout the book of Doublends Jined.

Old Dublin City there is no doubtin' Bates every city upon the say. 'Tis there you'd hear O'Connell spoutin' And Lady Morgan making tay. For 'tis the capital of the finest nation, With charmin' pisintry upon a fruitful sod, Fightin' like devils for conciliation, And hatin' each other for the Love of God.

My first song was about the smog over Dublin in the 1980s, so yeah, I suppose I was always socially conscious. My first song was not a love song, it was about smog.

You say fate is almost indispensable to literature - I think it's completely indispensable, at least in a novel, because a novel always has a plot. Even if nothing happens, even if someone just spends a day walking around Dublin, or whatever, there's still something going on.

There's a ruthlessness to the city now that wasn't there before. I was in Dublin a few months ago, when we were shooting Breakfast on Pluto, and if I saw one kid throwing up on the street, I must have seen a hundred of them.

There was no doubt about it: if you wanted to succeed you had to go away. You could do nothing in Dublin.

Wanderers, Dublin's oldest rugby club, has been described more than once as the club of the Church and the Army: the wags added "...unfortunately the wrong Church and the wrong Army.

When's the last time you walked by a pub in Dublin and heard Irish music? When's the last time you ordered a coffee and heard an Irish accent?

You've just provided me with the makings of one hell of a weekend in Dublin.

I know you mean well, but you have to remember that things don't always work out like they do in your storybooks.

Did you ever hear tell,' said Jimmy Farrell, 'of the skulls they have in the city of Dublin? White skulls and black skulls and yellow skulls, and some with full teeth, and some haven't only but one,' and compounded history in the pan of 'an old Dane, maybe, was drowned in the Flood.' My words lick around cobbled quays, go hunting lightly as pampooties over the skull-capped ground. -Viking Dublin: Trial Pieces

...I live in Ireland every day in a drizzly dream of a Dublin walk...

We in Ireland are gifted beyond most peoples with a talent for acting, and in Dublin especially, while scorning culture, which indeed we have not got, we are possessed of a most futile and diverting cleverness.

In the midst of a hive of customers and clerks, a small boy with blond hair neatly parted on one side stares up into the face of a bronze sculpture. It is Cuchulainn himself---the warrior light. The Hound of Coolan lashed to a boulder with spear drawn. But The Hound is leaning to one side and dying in a public hall of the Dublin Post Office.

Marooned by all but one of his new disciples, the busker complete his act unfazed. The perfumed air seems to be replaced by a faint electrical smell like ozone after a lightning strike. When the man becomes a sterling tableau in the setting sun, Leah stares into his unblinking moonstone eye.