Sebastian Barry quotes: wise famous quotes, sayings and quotations by Sebastian Barry

Sebastian Barry Famous Quotes & Sayings

Discover top inspirational quotes from Sebastian Barry on Wise Famous Quotes.

A child is never the author of his own history.

Names, names, all passed away, forgotten, mere birdsong in the bushes of things.

It is always worth itemizing happiness, there is so much of the other thing in a life, you had better put down the markers of happiness while you can.

I wonder if I were to have an X-ray at the little hospital, would the machine see my grief? Is it like rust, arheum about the heart?

I am as late as the rabbit in Lewis Carroll.

The trust of those in dark need is forgiving work.

three living men had seen horrors, and those who see horrors may do horrors just as bad, that is the law of life and war. Soon

We have neglected the tiny sentences of life and now the big ones are beyond our reach.

Our smiles mostly for each other, and every stranger a possible demon or bear, till they proved otherwise

I haven't really written my plays and books - I've heard them. The stories are there already, singing in your genes and in your blood.

I miss her face, its beauty, and its beauty lost.

There is such solace in the mere sight of water. It clothes us delicately in its blowing salt and scent, gossamer items that medicate the poor soul

That is because at the close of the day the ship we sail in is the soul, not the body.

The bottom was always falling out of something in America far as I could see.

Things that give you heart are rare enough, better note them in your head when you find them and not forget.

There's no soldier don't have a queer little spot in his wretched heart for his enemy, that's just a fact.

Tears have a better character cried alone. Pity can sometimes be more wolf than dog.

Order returns to his addled head, and God no longer breaks eggs there in the morning" from "The Whereabouts of Eneas McNulty

Book I still possess in all the flotsam and ruckus of my life,

It is very difficult to be a hero without an audience, although, in a sense, we are each the hero of a peculiar, half-ruined film called our life.

Those that we love, those essential beings, are removed from us at the will of the Almighty, or the devils that usurp them.

There are moments when I am pierced through by an inexplicable joy, as if, in having nothing, I have the world.

SPRING COMES INTO Massachusetts with her famous flame. God's breath warming the winter out of things

my mother's wits were now in an attic of her head which had neither door nor stair, or at least none that I could find.

For I did not want him to see, or to question me, for here contains already secrets, and my secrets are my fortune and my sanity.

In those strange days when if anything unexpected could happen it probably would.

Trench dirt didn't always wash out, I am sure.

Grizzled old bastard like him don't go providing death-bed transformations.

Roseanne, Roseanne, if I called to you now, my own self calling to my own self, would you hear me? And if you could hear me, would you heed me?

We may be black-hearted men when our turn comes but there is a seam in men called justice that nothing burns off complete. Caught-His-Horse-First

And whatever my life had been up to that day, it was another life after that. And that is the gospel truth.

The years return us gradually to the afflictions and shames of childhood, it is a curiosity of existence.

But as I spoke to him, all I could feel was love. That was ridiculous. And I am deeply, deeply suspicious of it.

We were two wood-shavings of humanity in a rough world.

How is that for some people drinking is a short-term loan on the spirit, but for others a heavy mortgage on the soul?

I guess love laughs at history a little.

Because it strikes me there is something greater than judgement. I think it is called mercy.

Four men killed that day. The phrase sat up in Willie's head like a rat and made a nest for itself there

It had been a war of kingly poisons, in the air, in the memory, in the blood.

What is the sound of an eighty-nine-year-old heart breaking?

I suppose therefore God is the connoisseur of filthied hearts and souls, and can see the old, the first pattern in them, and cherish them for that.

To be alone, but to be pierced through with a kingly joy, now and then, as I believe I am, is a great possession indeed.

I am dwelling on things I love, even if a measure of tragedy is stitched into everything, if you follow the thread long enough

Because faithfulness is not a human question, but a divine one.

We may be immune to typhoid, tetanus, chicken-pox, diphtheria, but never memory. There is no inoculation against that.

The thing itself, the first thing, will never do us alone, we must be elaborating, improving, poeticising.

After all the world is indeed beautiful and if we were any other creature than man we might be continuously happy in it.

It is worthless talking about what we have been spared by death. Death grins at that I am sure. Death of all creation knows the value of life.

History needs to be mightily inventive about human life because bare life is an accusation against man's dominion of the earth.

who might have been a preacher had she not been cloven

He carried a highly ecclesiastical umbrella, like something real and austere, that said its prayers at night in the hatstand. I

There is seldom a difficulty with religion where there is friendship.

I am cold, even though the heat of early summer is adequate. I am cold because I cannot find my heart.

There are some sufferings that we seem as a creature to forget, or we would never survive as a creature among all the other creatures.

Clinton and his cigar was so much greater a man than Bush and his rifle.

His first word, his first day at junior high. Nonsense things, the deepest, most important poetry of my life.

THERE'S OLD SORROW in your blood like second nature and new sorrow that maddens the halls of sense. Causes