Gaelic Quotes

“But listen well. In Tir na nOg, because there is no sorrow, there is no joy.
Do you hear the meaning of the seachain's song?”
― Alexandra Ripley, Scarlett

“The lively oral storytelling scene in Scots and Gaelic spills over into the majority English-speaking culture, imbuing it with a strong sense of narrative drive that is essential to the modern novel, screenplay and even non-fiction.”
― Sara Sheridan

“Refusing to lean back against him, Colleen sat ramrod straight until they reached the road. “I guess I should say thank you for saving my life,” she muttered then turned and slapped Faolán hard across the face. “And that’s for you having to save it in the first place. And I’m not your woman, you big, arrogant, lying, betraying…faery loving…” She searched for the perfect insult and couldn’t find one, “…Scot.” She gave a very unladylike snort. “Happy now? That fiery enough for you?”
― Shannon MacLeod, Rogue on the Rollaway

“I don't know if it's a forever deal, a sheep farm in the middle of nowhere. But I want to try, for Harry's sake. And I love it all when you're here. It's like you made it new for me. You--you are my forever deal."
There it was again, that dangerous, beautiful word. In Gaelic, wilder and lovelier still. "A-chaoidh."
"Yes, forever, Nic. A-chaoidh.”
― Harper Fox, Scrap Metal

“Iar gclos báis Mháire
i dtuairim cháich má fágbhadh m'ainnir faoi fhód,
níor bhuadhaigh bás ar Mháire im mheabhair-se fós.”
― Pádraigín Haicéad

“You are remarkable, mo chreach bheag.”
― Dolores Lane, Bloody Fingers & Red Lipstick

“Spread your legs for me, mo chreach bheag.”
― Dolores Lane, Bloody Fingers & Red Lipstick

“What is it that Australians celebrate on 26 January? Significantly, many of them are not quite sure what event they are commemorating. Their state of mind fascinated Egon Kisch, an inquisitive Czech who was in Sydney at the end of January 1935. Kisch has a place in our history as the victim, or hero, of a ludicrous chapter in the history of our immigration laws. He had been invited to Melbourne for a Congress against War and Fascism, and was forbidden to land by order of the attorney-general, R. G. Menzies. He had jumped overboard, broken his leg, gone to hospital, failed a dictation test in Gaelic and been sentenced to imprisonment and deportation. When the High Court declared Gaelic not a language, Kisch was free to hobble on our soil...”
― K.S. Inglis, Observing Australia: 1959–1999

“Nuair a bhagras an nàmhaid,
Air a' Ghàidheal a dh'éighear -

Bidh gach morair is iarla
Guidhe dian leibh gu éirigh,

Bidh sibh measail aig diùcan
'S bheir an Crùn a chuid fhéin dhuibh;

Ach nuair cheanglar an t-sith leibh
Cha bhi cuimhn' air bhur feum dhaibh,

Cha bhi cuimhn' air mar smàladh
Thar sàl do thìr chéin sibh,

Mar chaidh fearann a dhiùltadh
'S mar a chum iad na féidh bhuaibh,

Mar a chu iad an t-iasg bhuaibh
Agus ianlaith nan speuran.


When the enemy threaten,
It's the Gael who is called -

Each earl and each lord
Implores you to rise,

Dukes show you respect
And the Crown gives you its share;

But when peace is secured by you
They'll forget how you served them,

They'll forget you were banished
Far over the sea,

And how land was refused
And they forbade you the deer,

And forbade you the fish
And the birds of the air.


- Ruairidh MacAoidh ”
― Ronald Black, An Tuil = The Flood: Anthology of 20th-Century Scottish Gaelic Verse

“Gaelic has had a far bigger and longer run in Scotland than Scots or English.

Teutonic speech is still a comparative upstart, and its sweeping victory did not begin till well on in the 17th century. A conscientious Chinaman who contemplated a thesis on the literary history of Scotland would have no doubt as to his procedure, 'I will learn a little Gaelic, and read all I can find about Gaelic literature from the oldest Irish poets down to Ban MacIntyre, and nearly a third of my thesis will be on Gaelic literature',

He would be rather mystified when he discovered that historians of Scotland and its literature had known and cared as much about Gaelic literature as about Chinese, and that they had gone on the remarkable assumption that the majority of the Scots were Anglo-Saxons and that their literature began with Thomas the Rhymer, in the reign of Alexander III.”
― William Power

“The development of the 'New British History' (or preferably 'Archipelagic History') in the late twentieth century also lends itself to the study of the Northumbrian kingdom. The approach promotes the comparison, and tracing of contacts, between England, Wales, Scotland and Ireland. It has been criticised for a focus on 'anglicisation', that is the extension of English power across the archipelago. Such an approach would indeed be problematic in relation to the tenth century, when English dominance was more of an aspiration than a reality, and even more so for the heyday of the autonomous Northumbrian kingdom. In contrast, my book investigates influences travelling in the other direction, those emanating from the Gaelic world. I therefore favour a version of the Archiplagic approach in which influences travel in numerous directions, and the various communities 'interact so as to modify the conditions of each other's existence'.”
― Fiona Edmonds, Gaelic Influence in the Northumbrian Kingdom: The Golden Age and the Viking Age

“Did I tell you I went to Chris Baker's restaurant? Seòin." She pronounces it "shown." "He told me it means 'feast' in Gaelic.”
― Brianne Moore, All Stirred Up

“Of course Bridget couldn't afford the trip. Mr. Hoover had been especially rough on Kentucky. but she accumulated more than enough money for her passage. She had gone to each of the children, there were ten, and humiliated them to the point that they sold animals and automobiles and whatever they could find to sell to give their mother money. One son sold half his timber land. She made them feel guilty over not having enough children, not looking after her in her old age, not speaking Gaelic.”
― Kaye Gibbons, A Cure for Dreams

“-"And you that sit by the fire are young, And true love waits for you; But the king and I grow old, grow old, And hate alone is true." - Ballad of the White Horse: Book III. The Harp of Alfred”
― G. K. Chesterton

“By bringing together our differences we will see how similar we really are. Combining our strengths and talents is how we will survive, and embracing love according to the needs and values of the tribe is how we shall conquer our fear...”
― Robin Craig Clark, Heart of the Earth: A Fantastic Mythical Adventure of Courage and Hope, Bound by a Shared Destiny

“Goddamn, mo leannan. You taste like rage and desire, and it’s fucking intoxicating,”
― Dolores Lane, Bloody Fingers & Red Lipstick

“Look at me, mo chreach. It’s just us. It’s just you and me.”
― Dolores Lane, Bloody Fingers & Red Lipstick

“You are a kind soul, mo chreach bheag. I hate to think that you have been lonely for most of your life, when all you deserved was the world.”
― Dolores Lane, Bloody Fingers & Red Lipstick

“You are a fine dancer, Dubh Burton.”
I smile, giving her a soft kiss on her cheek. “And you are flourishing like a flower, mo chreach. You’ve embraced your darkness, and my, it is beautiful.”
― Dolores Lane, Bloody Fingers & Red Lipstick

“It’s just you and me,” he groans. “You’re mine now, mo chreach bheag. I am never letting you go.”
― Dolores Lane, Bloody Fingers & Red Lipstick

“Last night was the best night of my life, mo chreach bheag.”
― Dolores Lane, Bloody Fingers & Red Lipstick

“Is leat mo chridhe, mo chreach bheag.” You own my heart, my little prey. “Bheir mi air pàigheadh. Gheibh e bàs.” I will make him pay. He will die.”
― Dolores Lane, Bloody Fingers & Red Lipstick

“Is leat mo chridhe, mo leannan. I love you so much that it hurts. Now, will you dance with me? Show the whole damn venue that no one can do it better than us?”
― Dolores Lane, Bloody Fingers & Red Lipstick

“My crazy lass… My beautiful Lucille. Gu sìorraidh is gu bràth.”
― Dolores Lane, Bloody Fingers & Red Lipstick

“This woman knows every single messed up piece of me and she loves me anyway. And I love all of hers in return.
My beautiful little brute. Mo chreach bheag. My Lucy.
My forever.”
― Dolores Lane, Bloody Fingers & Red Lipstick

“It is not long since some families lived in Galloway who spoke Gaelic: so it will be found, the greater part of the names of farms, waters, parishes come from that language. But why treat of this further?”
― John Mactaggart, The Scottish Gallovidian Encyclopedia, or, The Original, Antiquated, and Natural Curiosities of the South of Scotland; containing Sketches of Eccentric Characters and Curious Places, with Explanations of Singular Words, Terms, and Phrases

“All the water in the sea won’t wash out our kinship.”
― Angus Macgillivray, Our Gaelic Proverbs: A Mirror of the Past

“Callum pulled a sgian dubh from out of his stocking and slammed it into the door-frame, where it lodged deep into the wood.
“They call it the black knife,” he said. “But it is true steel. That’ll keep the witches frae’ your door at least, Mistress Nansie! Dia leat!”
Nansie squeezed his hand.
“Dia leat! God with you too, my son!”
Callum crossed himself, touched the blade of the sgian dubh for luck and then padded softly down the stairs after the others.
“Tapadh leat mo mhàthair!” he called back quietly. “But somethin’ tells me there’s no God where we’re headed…”
He stepped out onto the moor, and plunged on into the darkness, until it swallowed him too.”
― Guy Winter

“The shapes I seemed to see - or saw, for if a man sees visions with the interior sight he sees them, fo himself at least, as surely as if he saw them with the outward eye - loomed lofty and gigantic, and peopled once again Menteith with riders, as it was peopled in the past. The shadowy and ill-starred earls, their armour always a decade out of fashion, and now and then surmounted by a Highland bonnet set with an eagle's feather, giving them the air half of the Saxon half of the Kelt, their horses lank and ill-groomed, their followers talking in shrill Gaelic seemed to defile along the road. Their blood was redder than the King's, their purses lighter than an empty bean-pod after harvest, and still they had an air of pride, but all looked "fey", as if misfortune had set its seal upon their race.”
― R.B. Cunninghame Graham, Faith

“Seek in Glen Massan no emotions of terror and the wild sublime, but a softer sentiment, roused by the forgotten Gaelic bard who sung the sorrows of the sons of Usnach; and in Tarsuinn, Garrachra and Glen Lean, I would restore, in fancy, shepherds and hunters on the grass-grown drove-road and the abandoned hill. The Clyde has drained those glens, not of their waters only, but of men, and melancholy broods among the shadows of Benmore as if it, too, remembered lonefully the unreturning generations.”
― Neil Munro, The Clyde, River and Firth