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“Yea, she hath passed hereby, and blessed the sheaves,
And the great garths, and stacks, and quiet farms,
And all the tawny, and the crimson leaves.
Yea, she hath passed with poppies in her arms,
Under the star of dusk, through stealing mist,
And blessed the earth, and gone, while no man wist.

With slow, reluctant feet, and weary eyes,
And eye-lids heavy with the coming sleep,
With small breasts lifted up in stress of sighs,
She passed, as shadows pass, among the sheep;
While the earth dreamed, and only I was ware
Of that faint fragrance blown from her soft hair.

The land lay steeped in peace of silent dreams;
There was no sound amid the sacred boughs.
Nor any mournful music in her streams:
Only I saw the shadow on her brows,
Only I knew her for the yearly slain,
And wept, and weep until she come again.”
― Frederic Manning

“I anoint you with this sacred oil in the name of Brighid
Triple Goddess
Maiden, Mother, Crone”
― Wendy Wildcraft

“When you were born, just a fresh babe, and I held you in my arms for the first time, I knew that we had to call you Bridie, after the blessed St. Brigid. I knew because the moment I set eyes on you, I saw you had holy fire in you, exactly like our own St. Brigid.”
― Kirsty Murray, Bridie's Fire

“**spoken by Brigid**
"The divine endeavors to course through all peoples and religions, Decius. It is only in Christianity that it has best found its home.”
― Heather Terrell, Brigid of Kildare