Celebration of the Green–St. Patrick’s Day

Celebration of the Green–St. Patrick’s Day
Created by Jennifer Kiley
A First St. Patrick’s Day
Knowing I Have Irish In Me Veins
Anything Might Make It To This Page Today
Abstract Digital Art by j. kiley
Unless otherwise credited
Posted 03.17.13 on St. Patrick’s Day
This Is For You Who Received the LotV

carter green
Carter Kiley MacKenzie

see james joyce

awe-some green

Shamrock Background

Shamrocks as Heart Pumping Echo

abstract green buttons


Shamrock Background

aurora borealis heart echo


Shamrock Background

Tree of Life by Jen Delyth cetic

Tree of Life by Jen Delyth cetic

green water drops

leaves berry twirl

Loreena McKennitt — The Two Trees — William Butler Yeats

Loreena McKennitt — Mystical Dream

Loreena McKennitt — Skellig

QUOTATIONS of (2)St. Patrick’s Day & then James Joyce:

“We have always found the Irish a bit odd. They refuse to be English.”
Winston Churchill

“Being Irish, he had an abiding sense of tragedy, which sustained him through temporary periods of joy.” William Butler Yeats

“Think you’re escaping and run into yourself. Longest way round is the shortest way home.” ― James Joyce, Ulysses

“I will tell you what I will do and what I will not do. I will not serve that in which I no longer believe, whether it calls itself my home, my fatherland, or my church: and I will try to express myself in some mode of life or art as freely as I can and as wholly as I can, using for my defense the only arms I allow myself to use — silence, exile, and cunning.” ― James Joyce, A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man

“His heart danced upon her movements like a cork upon a tide. He heard what her eyes said to him from beneath their cowl and knew that in some dim past, whether in life or revery, he had heard their tale before.”
― James Joyce, A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man

“You made me confess the fears that I have. But I will tell you also what I do not fear. I do not fear to be alone or to be spurned for another or to leave whatever I have to leave. And I am not afraid to make a mistake, even a great mistake, a lifelong mistake and perhaps as long as eternity too.” ― James Joyce, A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man

“Love loves to love love.”
― James Joyce, Ulysses

“I am tomorrow, or some future day, what I establish today. I am today what I established yesterday or some previous day.”
― James Joyce

“He wanted to cry quietly but not for himself: for the words, so beautiful and sad, like music.” ― James Joyce, A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man

“Every life is in many days, day after day. We walk through ourselves, meeting robbers, ghosts, giants, old men, young men, wives, widows, brothers-in-love. But always meeting ourselves.” ― James Joyce

“Moments of their secret life together burst like stars upon his memory.”
― James Joyce, The Dead

“Too excited to be genuinely happy”
― James Joyce, Dubliners

“Love (understood as the desire of good for another) is in fact so unnatural a phenomenon that it can scarcely repeat itself the soul being unable to become virgin again and not having energy enough to cast itself out again into the ocean of another s soul.” ― James Joyce

“Shakespeare is the happy hunting ground of all minds that have lost their balance.” ― James Joyce, Ulysses

“The movements which work revolutions in the world are born out of the dreams and visions in a peasant’s heart on the hillside.” ― James Joyce, Ulysses

“A corpse is meat gone bad. Well and what’s cheese? Corpse of milk. ”
― James Joyce

“All things are inconstant except the faith in the soul, which changes all things and fills their inconstancy with light…” ― James Joyce

“What did it avail to pray when he knew his soul lusted after its own destruction?” ― James Joyce

“The supreme question about a work of art is out of how deep a life does it spring.” ― James Joyce, Ulysses

“What’s in a name? That is what we ask ourselves in childhood when we write the name that we are told is ours.” ― James Joyce, Ulysses

“By his monstrous way of life he seemed to have put himself beyond the limits of reality. Nothing moved him or spoke to him from the real world unless he heard it in an echo of the infuriated cries within him.”
― James Joyce, A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man