Top of the morning, readers!
Saint Patrick’s Day is on Thursday, March 17th. ❤️📚☕️🍀 Let’s celebrate with some lovely vintage cards and quotes. Enjoy!
“To be Irish is to know that in the end the world will break your heart.”
“He was a scoundrel and a saint and a survivor. A tangled Celtic knot of thorns and roses. Ragged and sincere. It moved her deeply. Like a forgotten melody that suddenly struck a vibrant chord inside her heart. He was almost irresistible.”
“A proper Irishman always does what a lady asks him. Sure an’ it’s been the ruin av us. We’re at the mercy av the petticoats.”
“Being Irish, he had an abiding sense of tragedy, which sustained him through temporary periods of joy.”
“I’m Irish!…When I feel well I feel better than anyone, when I am in pain I yell at the top of my lungs, and when I am dead I shall be deader than anybody.”
“Only Irish coffee provides in a single glass all four essential food groups: alcohol, caffeine, sugar and fat.”
“We Irish prefer embroideries to plain cloth. To us Irish, memory is a canvas–stretched, primed, and ready for painting on. We love the “story” part of the word “history,” and we love it trimmed out with color and drama, ribbons and bows. Listen to our tunes, observe a Celtic scroll: we always decorate our essence.”
“That’s right, there’s free beer in Irish paradise. Everyone’s jealous.”
“The Irish are the one race for which psychoanalysis is of no use whatsoever… because they already live in a dream world.
“Thankfully the rest of the world assumed that the Irish were crazy, a theory that the Irish themselves did nothing to debunk. They had somehow got it into their heads that each fairy lugged around a pot of gold with him wherever he went. While it was true that LEP had a ransom fund, because of its officers’ high-risk occupation, no human had ever taken a chunk of it yet. This didn’t stop the Irish population in general from skulking around rainbows, hoping to win the supernatural lottery.”
“When anyone asks me about the Irish character, I say look at the trees. Maimed, stark and misshapen, but ferociously tenacious.”
“May your glass be ever full.
May the roof over your head be always strong.
And may you be in heaven
half an hour before the devil knows you’re dead”
“her real depths are Irish and romantic and illogical”
“May the road rise up to meet you, may the wind be ever at your back. May the sun shine warm upon your face and the rain fall softly on your fields. And until we meet again, May God hold you in the hollow of his hand.”
Looking for the perfect Saint Patrick’s Day read? Check out my latest novel, Autumn Lady.🍀
“His eyes flickered with a touch of mischief. He chuckled softly, “Yes. That’s right, darlin’.” Dimples surfaced around his mouth as he smiled. “Miss McClain, I happen to be very familiar with that side of town.”
Mara was not sure why this was so amusing. She looked up at his face. His skin was quite fair in contrast to his dark hair. Thick, black lashes framed vibrant brown eyes, flecks of gold radiating around the pupils. The color was intense, mysterious. She wanted to keep looking, but thought it rude to stare. Instead, she turned way, studying the street, searching for another carriage.
“I can follow alongside your cab when it arrives. I have my horse saddled up around the corner. I’d be happy to escort you over to the Levy house. I’m heading over there myself.”
“Yes,” he said, smiling. “It’s my home.” His eyes shone with amusement, looking down at Mara’s bewildered face.
“You live there?” She asked in astonishment.
He looked at her patiently. “Well, yes, Miss McClain. You know that it’s a boarding house, right? I just so happen to be one of the boarders,” he said, grinning. Mara barely heard the carriage pulling up alongside her.
“Looks like your chariot has arrived,” he said. “The young lady would like a ride to the Levy Boarding House on O’Farrell Street.” He handed the driver some coins.
“Oh, Mr. Deane, I can pay my own way.”
“I’m sure you can, Miss McClain, but I’d like to take care of this one for you.” he said firmly.
Patrick finished paying the driver and turned to Mara offering his arm. As she took it, she felt his firm muscles against her body. Her face flushed. She pushed a locket of strawberry blond hair behind her ear, a nervous habit. Once she was seated, he helped the driver with the bags and grinned up at her.
“I’ll see yah back at Miss Levy’s house.” he said with a wink.
“Thank you, Mr. Deane.”
She watched him disappear into the fog and wondered if she’d imagined him: lost in thought, the carriage made its way down the cobblestone road.”
―AnneMarie Dapp, Autumn Lady
Thank you for visiting today. Hope you have a wonderful Saint Patrick’s Day!
Erin go bragh! : Ireland forever. 🍀