Discover the most popular and inspiring quotes and sayings on the topic of Hengall. Share them with your friends on social media platforms like Facebook, Twitter, or your personal blogs, and let the world be inspired by their powerful messages. Here are the Top 100 Hengall Quotes And Sayings by 97 Authors including Malcolm Gladwell,Charles Madigan,Jenny B. Jones,Neil Munro,Nicholson Baker for you to enjoy and share.
psychologist Timothy
It is Patrick the Legend, of course, who is most engaging and comes to us as something of a happy Celtic party monster.
This is Ireland, Finley. It's rough. It's wild. And it is holy.
There's ten thousand wyes a hen can get into a gairden, but only the wan wye she can get oot, and it's gey ill for her to find it.
Hapmshire" typo,
Beaujolais is so underrated.
I reckon some parsons have a right to tell yu' to be good. The bishop of this hyeh Territory has a right. But I'll tell yu' this: a middlin' doctor is a pore thing, and a middlin' lawyer is a pore thing; but keep me from a middlin' man of God.
Hello, Gallagher Girl
--Zack
Cole - For the fifth labour what better treat than to sling giant chunks of dung
St Patrick was a Roman Briton of good family dwelling probably in the Severn valley.
He had come abroad to enjoy the Flemish painters and all others; but what fair-tressed saint of Van Eyck or Memling was so interesting a figure as Madame de Mauves?
It is that word 'hunny,' my darlings, that marks the first place in The House at Pooh Corner at which Tonstant Weader fwowed up.
My dear Mama, you are definitely the hen who hatched a famous duck.
the son of Olaf. The latter was a tall,
Who is the man who can call from the back door at night: "Here, Champion Alexander of Clane o' Wind-Holme! Here, Champion Alexander of Clane o' Wind-Holme"?
Niall Ferguson is an intellectual fraud whose job, for years, has been to impress dumb, rich Americans with his accent and flatter them with his writings.
Keating can be somewhat liberal with the profanity, so I shall substitute the word 'albatross' where necessary, and you may read that part privately later.
The Hemlock Tearoom and Stationery
Alice Oswald. With Hughes and Heaney gone, people are looking around for the best British and Irish poets. Oswald is one of our finest.
Danny Lyon is one of my favorite photographers.
JEAN
I need him like the axe needs the turkey.
HARRINGTON
Don't be vulgar, Jean. Let us be crooked, but never common.
Dylan Quinn's knickers,
The weasel under the cocktail cabinet.
Is there a character in all of fiction more isolated than the little red hen?
A hen is only an egg's way of making another egg.
No milk, gone out for breakfast, then to Hamleys, want to beat crowds. PS Know who killed Quine.
Ian Callaghan is everything good that a man can be. No praise is too high for him. Words cannot do justice to the amount he has contributed to the game. Ian Callaghan will go down as one of the game's truly great players.
Taigen Dan Leighton has lovingly illumined still another dimension of the human condition.
Cournoyer has it on that wing. Here's a shot - Henderson made a wild stab for it and fell. Here's another shot! Right in front - THEY SCORE!!! Henderson has scored for Canada!
Poor Aubrey: I hope he will get all right. He brought a strangely new personality to English art, and was a master in his way of fantastic grace, and the charm of the unreal. His muse had moods of terrible laughter. Behind his grotesques there seemed to lurk some curious philosophy ...
The only thing that ever sat its way to success was a hen.
Gilly Gilleshpee
To read Helen Macdonald's memoir, H Is for Hawk, is to feel as though Emily Bronte just turned up at your door, trailing all the windy, feral outdoors into your living room.
My curiosity sister of larks.
Good morrow, fair ones; pray you, if you know,
Where in the purlieus of this forest stands
A sheep-cote fenc'd about with olive trees?
Howard Marks is a great friend and a great Welshman.
The nearest I have ever seen to the great Willie Pep
You know, Maureen, I seem to have seen that name somewhere." "Home Perm, perhaps. He looks like a hairdresser." Poirot winced.
Hee that comes of a hen must scrape.
The gentleman puts me in mind of an old hen which persists in setting after her eggs are taken away.
Let there be gall enough in thy ink, though thou write with a goose-pen, no matter.
Hens were wandering about like ladies at a lyceum tea trying to find their friends before selecting their seats.
Henry York, aka Whimpering Child, aka WC (hair sample included), is hereby identified as Enemy, Hazard, and Human Mishap to all faeren in all districts, in all ways, and in all worlds.
Irish improves a poet.
Kerrick the weed.
Well, schmear my bagel, if it isn't Mara Dyer.
I hope the artist who illustrates this work will take care to do justice to his portrait. Mr. Clive himself, let that painter be assured, will not be too well pleased if his countenance and figure do not receive proper attention.
Henpecked, the great Wyatt Earp," Cody said.
"You evidently don't know Jessie," Wyatt said. "If she's in one of her tempers she'd put a hyena to flight ...
Working with Rosshan Andrews has been wonderful.
Does he have a nickname?' Diana went on remorselessly. 'I mean, 'gaiphage' is so long. Can we call him phage? Or maybe just 'G'?
Unlike Ronan, Adam's Aglionby jumper was second-hand, but he'd taken great care to be certain it was impeccable. He was slim and tall, with dusty hair unevenly cropped above a fine-boned, tanned face. He was a sepia photograph.
I chose Van Gogh.
A pasty costly-made, Where quail and pigeon, lark and leveret lay, Like fossils of the rock, with golden yolks Imbedded and injellied.
Look at me, man, look at me and tell me I don't know what I'm about. I'm Conor Larkin. I'm an Irishman and I've had enough.
Frederic Leighton to James McNeill Whistler: 'My dear Whistler, you leave your pictures in such a sketchy, unfinished state. Why don't you ever finish them?' James McNeill Whistler to Frederic Leighton: 'My dear Leighton, why do you ever begin yours?
Holy Hottie-McHotters!
Fort of the Dane,
Garrison of the Saxon,
Augustan capital
Of a Gaelic nation,
Appropriating all
The alien brought,
You give me time for thought.
Harner has impeccable credentials, both as an academic and as a practicing shaman. Without doubt (since the recent death of Mircea Eliade) the world's leading authority on shamanism.
The variety within Mann's fiction is impressive and fascinating. But Joyce is even more various and many-sided. He begins his career with a wonderful sequence of bleak studies about the ways in which human lives can go awry - in my view, Dubliners is underrated.
From a most kind suggestion put to me by Mr Farraday himself one afternoon almost a fortnight ago, when I had been dusting the portraits in the library. In fact, as I recall, I was up on the step-ladder dusting the portrait of Viscount Wetherby
I don't remember anybody's name. How do you think the 'dahling' thing got started?
Lourdes Venard's White Bean Stew
Her name was Senga. You have to love Glasgow; once everyone figured we had enough people named Agnes, they just reversed the letters and started again. Hillcoat
Grant us safe lodging, and holy rest," Mrs. Grogan was saying, "and peace at last." Amen, thought Wilbur Larch, the Saint of St. Cloud's, who was seventy-something, and an ether addict, and who felt that he'd come a long way and still had a long way to go.
Hattie.' Grace patted my arm. 'My cows sing better than you do.
This tottered ensign of my ancestors
Which swept the desert shore of that dead sea
Whereof we got the name of Mortimer,
Will I advance upon these castle-walls.
Drums, strike alarum, raise them from their sport,
And sing aloud the knell of Gaveston!
Wouldn't. Think. About. Ian.Ian-- Jude Watson
Irish gardens beat all for horror. With 19 gardeners, Lord Talbot of Malahide has produced an affair exactly like a suburban golf course.
The hen is the wisest of all the animal creation, because she never cackles until the egg is laid.
Weeded and worn the ancient thatch Upon the lonely moated grange.
Faber's drawing-pencils;
Next door to the Bensons is Emmet Frag, a retired pacemaker who is credited with inventing the notion of happiness. He's currently working on a method for categorising ducks based on their singing voice. He's also the owner of the world's largest collection of tenor geese.
NICOLE CULLEN Long Tom Lookout
Who spit in your porridge?
I never know the heron as it flies at first. What is the slow, wide-winged figure in the sky? Then I see it, like a word in a foreign language, like seeing one's own name written in a strange alphabet and recognizing it, I say it: the heron.
Whose house is that, Constable?
[on John Cowper Powys] ... there is an indistinct photograph of the great man himself, gazing into the misty cleft of a mountain range, wearing what could be an old rug, or an old cardigan. He looks like a cross between an aged werewolf and a puzzled child.
And Henry's as well, for
In Ireland, the tribes are called after the founder, as the Hy Conaill, Hy Fiachra, or sons of Conal, sons of Fiech, through grand, great-grand, and great-great-grandchildren.
Doing some late-night home improvements, my man? ( ... ) For what it's worth, I never had any use for that froufrou French shit, either. - Tegan
The words come out of Helen Justineau in a flat monotone. Parks thinks of Gallagher's written report, with its proceeding tos and its thereupons. But Justineau's bowed head and the tightness of her grip on the parapet wall add their own commentary. "I
There was an Old Person of Bray, Who sang through the whole of the day To his ducks and his pigs, whom he fed upon figs, That valuable Person of Bray.
Trouthe is the hyest thyng that man may kepe.
For some reason I was unable to call him by his only given name. Niall Stella was a two man honor. Like Prince Harry or Jesus Christ.
Hayes. Peter Hayes.
So all we know about Hugh MacLean is that his financial situation is unclear, he has an unknown number of illegitimate children, and the family curse is true. I've caught quiet a prize!
cannon used. The night of the grand festivity
There is no greater symbol of the artistic spirit of Scotland than the Mackintosh building. But more than that it is a symbol of where art belongs, rising as it does out of the heart of a great city. A mighty castle on a hill, it is a part of me, and of all Glaswegians.
Cow - Tanith Low
On one wall there was a recent watercolour - Saint E.O. Wilson of Hymenoptera
You are the shit, Hopper Kincaid!
He turns to the painting. "I fear Mark was right."
"Who is Mark?"
"A silly little boy who runs after George Boleyn. I once heard him say I looked like a murderer."
Gregory says, "Did you not know?
His Tender Roni.
The last name is pronounced Jill-en-hall. It's spelled with two l's, two a's. We have a song in my family; G-Y-Double L - EN - HAAL spells Gyllenhaal. It's a Swedish name. It's a family heirloom set to music.
And Clare, always Clare.
corn maque choux. He
Egg-sucking son of a porcupine!
Sheeps' Head Stew Oxtail
Paddy Eagan, stay away from falling signs for a bit and you'll be as right as rain come the weekend.
I'm now painting with all the elan of a Marseillais eating soup, which won't surprise you when I tell you I'm painting large sunflowers. The idea? To decorate the studio, now there's hope of Gauguin living here. I aim at a dozen panels of sunflowers in the room I've set aside for Gauguin ...