William Butler Yeats: Irish prose writer, dramatist and poet; Nobel Prize for Literature in 1923. 1865-1939; compiled the Oxford Book of Modern Verse. My favourite Irish author would have been 150 years today. Ireland, myself included, celebrates a man so talented, his words still touches people today. Two years ago, and on my birthday, I… Read More William Butler Yeats @150
Yesterday morning – rain, wind, slight chill in the air – I walked totally wrecked and at snail pace towards the bookshop. Voucher in hand, lots of titles written down on paper, just in case my memory checks out on me again. For a while now I had been looking at certain books, longing to… Read More So many books, so little time!
“Ever tried. Ever failed. No matter. Try Again. Fail again. Fail better.” (from Worstward Ho, 1983; Samuel Beckett 1906 – 1989) Irish Writer, best known for his play Waiting for Godot in 1952 and winning the Noble Prize Literature in 1969. © WVE and Ireland, MS and Me, 2011-2013. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this… Read More Worstward Ho, by Samuel Beckett
Erin! the tear and the smile in thine eyes Blend like the rainbow that hangs in thy skies, Shining through sorrow’s stream, Saddening through pleasure’s beam, Thy suns with doubtful gleam, Weep while they rise. Erin, thy silent tear never shall cease, Erin, thy languid smile ne’er shall increase, Till, like the rainbow’s light, Thy… Read More Erin, by Thomas Moore
Words. Letters strung together to form sentences filled with thoughts, ideas and emotions. I thrive on them, books and communication in general included. I am a true bibliophile. Did library studies and ended up working in one for about 7 years before moving to Ireland. Books were my life as a kid, a teen, a… Read More Haunting Joyce
Had I the heavens’ embroidered cloths, Enwrought with golden and silver light, The blue and the dim and the dark cloths Of night and light and the half light, I would spread the cloths under your feet: But I, being poor, have only my dreams; I have spread my dreams under your feet; Tread softly… Read More Aedh Wishes for the Cloths of Heaven, by W.B. Yeats
The soul of music shed, Now hangs as mute on Tara’s walls As if that soul were fled. So sleeps the pride of former days, So glory’s thrill is o’er, And hearts that once beat high for praise, Now feel that pulse no more! No more to chiefs and ladies bright The harp of Tara… Read More The Harp That Once Through Tara's Halls, by Thomas Moore
Yesterday, after tons of times walking past it to go to my favourite bookstore in Dublin (Hodges Figgis) in Duke Street, my eyes caught a gem of another bookstore. Cathach Books sells first editions of James Joyce, William Butler Yeats, Oscar Wilde, Samuel Beckett and so many more fantastic Irish authors. In the window display,… Read More Stunning bookstore in Dublin!
‘Dublin is as much a state of mind as it is a city’ Tom MacDonagh It is, that I can tell you for sure. Dublin has a way of getting under your skin. In a good way and in a lesser way. Dublin is Dublin is Dublin, but sadly Irishness is disappearing from the… Read More Dublin: a state of mind