2007-08 Notre Dame Fighting Irish Mens Basketball Team

Famous quotes containing the words notre, dame, fighting, irish, mens, basketball and/or team:

    Se bella piu satore, je notre so catore,
    Je notre qui cavore, je la qu’, la qui, la quai!
    Le spinash or le busho, cigaretto toto bello,
    Ce rakish spagoletto, si la tu, la tu, la tua!
    Senora pelefima, voulez-vous le taximeter,
    La zionta sur le tita, tu le tu le tu le wa!
    Charlie Chaplin (1889–1977)

    When my old wife lived, upon
    This day she was both pantler, butler, cook,
    Both dame and servant, welcomed all, served all,
    Would sing her song and dance her turn, now here
    At upper end o’the table, now i’the middle,
    On his shoulder, and his, her face afire
    With labor, and the thing she took to quench it
    She would to each one sip.
    William Shakespeare (1564–1616)

    Was man made stupid to see his own stupidity?
    Is God by definition indifferent, beyond us all?
    Is the eternal truth man’s fighting soul
    Wherein the Beast ravens in its own avidity?
    Richard Eberhart (b. 1904)

    Louise, something in me tightens when an American intellectual’s eyes shine, and they start to talk to me about the Russian people. Something in me says, Watch it, a new version of Irish Catholicism is being offered for your faith.
    Warren Beatty (b. 1937)

    Is it that mens frayle eyes, which gaze too bold,
    She may entangle in that golden snare:
    Edmund Spenser (1552?–1599)

    Perhaps basketball and poetry have just a few things in common, but the most important is the possibility of transcendence. The opposite is labor. In writing, every writer knows when he or she is laboring to achieve an effect. You want to get from here to there, but find yourself willing it, forcing it. The equivalent in basketball is aiming your shot, a kind of strained and usually ineffective purposefulness. What you want is to be in some kind of flow, each next moment a discovery.
    Stephen Dunn (b. 1939)

    giving a nod, up the chimney he rose.
    He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,
    And away they all flew like the down of a thistle,
    But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight,
    “Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night.”
    Clement Clarke Moore (1779–1863)