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“The decisions we make, the things that happen to us, it all goes into forming the persons we become. I think the secret is, do we embrace our experiences and use them to build ourselves into becoming something better, or do we let them slowly eat away at us, like a cancer?”
D.P. Costello, The Rag Tree: A Novel of Ireland
“Even a newspaperman, if you entice him into a cemetery at midnight, will believe in phantoms, for everyone is a visionary, if you scratch him deep enough. But the Celt is a visionary without scratching. W. B. Yeats”
D.P. Costello, The Rag Tree: A Novel of Ireland
“Even after the tears are dry, the hope endures. And at the end of the day, people will believe in anything, if there’s a need to.”
D.P. Costello, The Rag Tree: A Novel of Ireland
“It will do you no good to be wishing for boiled spuds, once you’ve mashed them. Just eat them the way they are, or else starve on your wishes.”
D.P. Costello, The Rag Tree: A Novel of Ireland
“We Irish, with our intrinsic gift of language, transformed this necessity of using pseudonyms into a poetic legacy. There are from this tradition many names for Ireland herself, Dear Dark Head, Kathleen ni Houlihan, and Róisín, which you know of course, Kevin, is Irish for rose. So, if the pseudonym has something to do with the rose, we could be referring to a symbol for Ireland herself.”
D.P. Costello, The Rag Tree: A Novel of Ireland
“Daoine Maithe, meaning Good Folk, was the proper Irish term for the faeries. Bab said the words “faeries” and “little people” were disrespectful terms.”
D.P. Costello, The Rag Tree: A Novel of Ireland
“Yet, even Emmett, who died nearly two centuries ago, was following a tradition of adopting a pseudonym which began long before. During Penal Times, when England’s colonizing was taking a firm grip on Ireland, it was unlawful for Irishmen to attend Mass, to speak their native tongue, in short to do anything to obstruct our colonization. So, the people began to speak in allegory and attached pseudonyms to persons and places that could be endangered.”
D.P. Costello, The Rag Tree: A Novel of Ireland
“we Irish as a race suffer from feelings of inferiority.” “The whole country? How’s that possible?” “Very easily, my dear Kevin. Studies have shown dat a race of people under prolonged oppression suffer greatly in terms of self esteem, partly because dey submit demselves — burp—just to cope with their oppressors, and because it serves the oppressors’ purpose to create an illiterate peasant class. After generations of such submission and ignorance, a racial identity is formed, some of the manifestations of which are high rates of—burp—alcoholism and abuse of one another. And, Kevin, we both know that the Irish are hardest on their own when it’s the fuckin’ English, the bloody cause of all our problems, who we should be hardest on. Take a look at da blacks in America and the problems dey have had forging a positive self-image. When dey look in da mirror, they just as well would see an Irish man. D’ere’s great fuckin’ parallels, man. Only the Irish were enslaved longer den da blacks.” As”
D.P. Costello, The Rag Tree: A Novel of Ireland
“Pragmatists fear losing the body. Idealists fear losing the soul. It’s the soul of Ireland that’s at risk, Piggy. For goddsakes, the country is becoming fuckin’ Paddyland. Planet Ireland. Every castle and historic site has a ticket booth and fence thrown around it. Where’s the giant mouse with the green ears? He can’t be long away, is he, Piggy?”
D.P. Costello
“Now, we must remember that the use of pseudonyms for clandestine purposes is very Irish. In fact, you might say we invented the practice. One is reminded of the patriot, Robert Emmett, who went by the name of ‘the Drake.’ He was hung, drawn, and quartered. In more recent times, Bobby Sands was both, ‘the Lark,’ and for his writings, he went by ‘Marcella.’ He died on hunger strike in 1981, of course.”
D.P. Costello
“A person in the midst of intense personal turmoil reverts to their most primal instincts, as a means of self-preservation. Personality affectations fall away like molted skin. Only the raw animal remains to protect itself.
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Mommies were always near. Daddies were always just beyond near.
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There's no good way to part, really. It's either slow and heart-wrenching, or too sudden, no time to adjust. Either way, we go with our arms outstretched, reaching for what has become just beyond our grasp. Most people eventually do let go and accept the reality of their fates. Most people can only survive a short time hugging shadows and kissing memories. In fact, it's the cause of your troubles, really. Your dreams are far too real. Ye are able to feel the shadows. That's been your real curse.
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I wonder why is it that the moment someone leaves us, the image we keep is the smile on his or her face. No matter how stern or how much of an old curmudgeon a body is during their lifetime, all that goes away the moment they leave us. And what do we remember? The smile. The good part of people.
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When all is said and done, it's the mothers that we all turn to in our hour of need.”
D.P. Costello, The Rag Tree: A novel of Ireland
“The Roads of Ireland There are no straight roads In Ireland. They weave, twist, Hump, dive, turn, writhe, And dance; And even when they vow To run direct before you, They’ve got doubling back In mind. Ahhhhhhhhh… They’re the true map Of the Irish soul. Séamas Ó Flannagáin”
D.P. Costello, The Rag Tree: A Novel of Ireland
“The long and short of the Rag Tree of Bamford Cross story was, if someone were to tie a scrap of cloth to the tree and make a worthy wish, that wish would come true, if and when the rag fell to the ground. Down through the years, people were after claiming cures for all classes of ills and diseases as well as changes in personal fortunes, all on account of the Rag Tree. Biddie figured that half of these claims were bunk, and the other half were due to good Catholics having their prayers answered. For her money, Biddie would rather put her chances with a good Padre Pio relic.”
D.P. Costello

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