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)
“Come dame or maid, be not afraid,
Poor Tom will injure nothing.”
—Unknown. Tom o’ Bedlam’s Song (l. 11–12)
“The things a man has to have are hope and confidence in himself against odds, and sometimes he needs somebody, his pal or his mother or his wife or God, to give him that confidence. He’s got to have some inner standards worth fighting for or there won’t be any way to bring him into conflict. And he must be ready to choose death before dishonor without making too much song and dance about it. That’s all there is to it.”
—Clark Gable (1901–1960)
“The difference of the English and Irish character is nowhere more plainly discerned than in their respective kitchens. With the former, this apartment is probably the cleanest, and certainly the most orderly, in the house.... An Irish kitchen ... is usually a temple dedicated to the goddess of disorder; and, too often, joined with her, is the potent deity of dirt.”
—Anthony Trollope (1815–1882)
“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)
“I also heard the whooping of the ice in the pond, my great bed-fellow in that part of Concord, as if it were restless in its bed and would fain turn over, were troubled with flatulency and bad dreams; or I was waked by the cracking of the ground by the frost, as if some one had driven a team against my door, and in the morning would find a crack in the earth a quarter of a mile long and a third of an inch wide.”
—Henry David Thoreau (1817–1862)