In writing a little tragedy, 'The Gaol Gate,' I made the scenario in three lines, 'He is an informer; he is dead; he is hanged.' I wrote that play very quickly.

There is many a man without learning will get the better of a college-bred man, and will have better words, too.

It is better to be tied to any thorny bush than to be with a cross man.

We would not give up our own country - Ireland - if we were to get the whole world as an estate, and the Country of the Young along with it.

The way most people fail is in not keeping up the heart.

Every trick is an old one, but with a change of players, a change of dress, it comes out as new as before.

It's best make changes little by little, the same as you'd put clothes upon a growing child.

She is a girl would not be afraid to walk the whole world with herself.

As to the old history of Ireland, the first man ever died in Ireland was Partholan, and he is buried, and his greyhound along with him, at some place in Kerry.

It takes madness to find out madness.

I said, in talking, that I felt more and more the time wasted that was not spent in Ireland.

This girl holds my heart in her hand and she's squishing it to nothing with her confession.

But Valentine, why despair, why always paint the future in such sombre hues?" Maximilien asked. "Because, my friend, I judge it by the past.

…and you smile back and try not to think about the fact that you have nothing, absolutely nothing, to say to each other.

It's fun being one of the boys. It's fun to play a character that's rough and gets down and dirty and not to be this precious girl who just sits in the corner and just sort of stands by the action.

I’m just doing what i like and people can just enjoy it. There’s nothing more than that.

O woman, born first to believe us; Yea, also born first to forget; Born first to betray and deceive us, Yet first to repent and regret.

We Canadians are not given as a people to great patriotic displays.

'Doctor Who' belongs to all of us. Everybody makes 'Doctor Who.'

Beauty is such a fleeting blossom, how can wisdom rely upon its momentary delight?