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“There is a concept in psychology called ‘moral injury,â€� notion, distinct from the idea of trauma, that relates to the ways in which ex-soldiers make sense of the socially transgressive things they have done during wartime. Price felt a sharp sense of moral injury: she believed that she had been robbed of any ethical justification for her own conduct.”
― Patrick Radden Keefe, Say Nothing: A True Story of Murder and Memory in Northern Ireland

“Who should be held accountable for a shared history of violence? It was a question that was dogging Northern Ireland as a whole.”
― Patrick Radden Keefe, Say Nothing: A True Story of Murder and Memory in Northern Ireland

“The body is a fantastic machine,â€� Hughes told Mackers in one of his Boston College interviews, recounting the grueling sequence of a hunger strike. ‘It’ll eat off all the fat tissue first, then it starts eating away at the muscle, to keep your brain alive.â€� Long after Hughes and Price called an end to their strikes and attempted to reintegrate into society, the nursed old grudges and endlessly replayed their worst wartime abominations. In a sense, they never stopped devouring themselves.”
― Patrick Radden Keefe, Say Nothing: A True Story of Murder and Memory in Northern Ireland

“Dating back to the Iliad, ancient Egypt and beyond, burial rites have formed a critical function in most human societies. Whether we cremate a loved one or inter her bones, humans possess a deep-set instinct to mark death in some deliberate, ceremonial fashion. Perhaps the cruelest feature of forced disappearance as an instrument of war is that it denies the bereaved any such closure, relegating them to a permanent limbo of uncertainty.”
― Patrick Radden Keefe, Say Nothing: A True Story of Murder and Memory in Northern Ireland

“But this was Dublin, the nation's capital. The place of my birth and a city I loved at the heart of a country I loathed. A town filled with good-hearted innocents, miserable bigots, adulterous husbands, conniving churchmen, paupers who received no help from the State, and millionaires who sucked the lifeblood from it.”
― John Boyne, The Heart's Invisible Furies

“If it wasn't anti-Semitic to do it to South Africa, it's not anti-Semitic to do it to Israel.”
― Jimmy Dore

“Ireland is so saturated with green that it's the things that not green catch one's eye: the roads, walls, shorelines, even sheep, seem to have been placed as contrast, strategically positioned to organize the vast expansion of green... In Ireland, you can bask in fact that you have been benevolently outnumbered by these first and better life forms. Standing in a peat bog in Dingle, you can not help wondering what Ireland was like before you and other primates scrambled upon its shore.”
― Hope Jahren, Lab Girl

“I went to the kitchen and unburied my treasure. Twenty-five-year-old Lagavullin. Drinking it is like a long, lingering, passionate kiss. Fire and wind and peat and sea, all mixed together.”
― Daniela Sacerdoti, Watch Over Me

“How can a person, or a class, be free when its means of life are in the grasp of another? How can the working class be free when the sole chance of existence of its individual members depends on their ability to make profit for others?”
― James Connolly, Labour, Nationality and Religion

“In this place on my own
The sea outside wraps this house of stone
Winter hums a chilly winter tune
Brushing through the stacks of sand dunes”
― Virginia O'Malley, Eire West

“Ah, the Irish. We’re a hopeless lot.”
― Edward Falco, The Family Corleone

“V slowly pulled her toward him. “You’re beautiful in the moonlight.”
― Donna Grant, Ignite

“Just because you love someone doesna preclude you from hurting them.”
― Donna Grant, Ignite

“Ireland treats you more like a friend than a tourist.”
― Will Rogers

“If you imagine a castle as bright and sparkly with glass slippers, singing mice, and servants with white gloves, this was the opposite.”
― Cindy Callaghan, Lost in Ireland

“I lived in Ireland. This meant it was only summer for 24 hours and the rest of the time it’s freezing.”
― Elizabeth McGivern, Amy Cole Has Lost Her Mind

“They made Caesar salad with Cashel Blue cheese. They made Irish lobster confit in Kerrygold butter. They made black pudding the way Fergus remembered it from his childhood, and lamb sausages so delicate they almost melted in your mouth. Everything they put on the menu got raves.”
― Deborah Crombie, A Bitter Feast

“What do Northsiders use for protection when having sex? Bus shelters.
What's the difference between a Northsider and Batman? Batman can go into a shop without robbin'.
What do you call a Northsider in a suit? The defendant.”
― Ella Griffin, The Flower Arrangement

“He came across from the pond, the young man and his fridge travelling over land and sea searching for a meaning and purpose in their lives. We speak of Tony Hawks, the Fridge Man. Tony Hawks who came to live amongst us for all but a short while, a Messiah of sorts. We felt ourselves not worthy to touch the hem of his fridge, but then we realised that he was but an ordinary man, his fridge but a little fridge, the son of a bigger fridge--the Big Fridge--the huge, gigantic Fridge in the Sky.”
― Tony Hawks, Round Ireland with a Fridge

“Alla fine tutto andò come va sempre. E, come succede sempre, col tempo la gente dimenticò, anche se dimenticare è un processo elettivo.”
― Josephine Hart, The truth about love

“Thinking now of the luminous cleanliness and bell-like resonance of Aran’s limestone rock sheets, their parallel fissures pointing one to the edge of clear-cut cliffs, and the solace on a summer’s day of its spring wells that image the perfection of the wildflowers attendant on them, I realize what a difficult terrain is south Connemara: multidirectional from every point, so complex in form it verges on the formless, disputing every step with stony irregularities, leachlike softness of bog or bootlace-catching twiggy heath. Often when visitors ask me what they should see in this region I am at a loss. A curious hole in the ground? The memory of an old song about a drowning? Ultimately I have to tell them that this is a land without shortcuts.”
― Tim Robinson, Connemara: A Little Gaelic Kingdom

“B the spring of 1848, the religious climate was still unsettled and ripe for progressive new ideas. America's cities were expanding, its populations swelling with immigrants from Ireland and Europe, its factories and ports booming all of which contributed to a rising mortality rate.”
― Nancy Rubin Stuart, The Reluctant Spiritualist: A Life of Maggie Fox

“Kit: Is all this [visit to Northern Ireland] doin' your head in?
Rodney: Bloody Hell, no, anything but. I've really enjoyed myself. Peter's soddin' hilarious, he really is. It's just a bit weird, that's all. And all of you being so used to it, that makes it even weirder. I mean, you've got those guys in there [the British soldiers], and that story of Peter's... There might have really been a bomb, but to him, it's just a funny story to tell...
Kit: Aye, which is how you know people are really gettin' used to somethin'-- they laugh at it. An' those fellas in there were just part of the queue, part of the background. An' that's the way it is.
Most've the time.”
― Garth Ennis, Hellblazer: Rake at the Gates of Hell

“Her forehead wrinkled as she tried to remember where she’d met this man with raven hair and rugged features, a man who could give any Hollywood star serious competition if he was so inclined.”
― Diana Stevan, A Cry From The Deep

“Those were the things she hated: all those regrets, all those maybes.”
― Diana Stevan, A Cry From The Deep

“Oui—I mean sí—I mean yes. I’m Meghan.â€� I was suddenly aware that I was still in the clothes I’d worn on the plane. I was tired, had frizzy bedhead, and my breath smelled like—what would be a good word for it? I know—YUCK!”
― Cindy Callaghan, Lost in Ireland

“Finn said to Shannon, “It’s our hearse. They’re planning to take you in our hearse.â€�

“What’s a hearse?â€� Piper asked.”
― Cindy Callaghan, Lost in Ireland

“Is everyone okay?â€� Mr. Leary asked. Everyone nodded, except Gene, who wept.

“Are you hurt?� Mr. Leary asked him.

“No,â€� he cried. “I’m still hungry.”
― Cindy Callaghan, Lost in Ireland

“We sat at a mahogany table that had enough nicks and dents to be an English muffin. I wondered for a sec if the Irish called them English muffins or something else.”
― Cindy Callaghan, Lost in Ireland

“Finn made a gurgling noise from his throat that didn’t sound exactly like choking, but then again, I’d never seen anyone being poisoned before. I was standing over him, ready to do CPR, when I noticed that he wasn’t choking; he was laughing.”
― Cindy Callaghan, Lost in Ireland