Leprechaun Quotes

“Magic
Sandra’s seen a leprechaun,
Eddie touched a troll,
Laurie danced with witches once,
Charlie found some goblins gold.
Donald heard a mermaid sing,
Susy spied an elf,
But all the magic I have known
I've had to make myself.”
― Shel Silverstein, Where the Sidewalk Ends

“If you stepped out of the shower and saw a leprechaun standing at the base of your toilet, would you scream, or would you innately understand that he meant you no harm?”
― David Sedaris, Let's Explore Diabetes with Owls

“I don't care what you Yanks say, cheese should not whiz.”
― Janette Rallison, My Fair Godmother

“I asked her, dreamily, if we had met, and when she told me that we had not, I gave her a little finger wave, the type a leprechaun might offer a pixie who was floating by on a maple leaf. "Well, hi there," I whispered.”
― David Sedaris, Let's Explore Diabetes with Owls

“I'll show you an imaginative re-creation, my fist imaginatively re-creating your fucken face for starters.”
― Neil Gaiman, American Gods

“Humph,' he said, with a disagreeable air, 'the universe does its work very quietly.' (“The Bogey Man”)”
― A.E. Coppard, Dusky Ruth and Other Stories

“Just because it looks like a leprechaun and talks like a leprechaun, it doesn't mean it can't act like the little fucking demon it is.”
― N.L. Gervasio, Nemesis

“There is something sinister about putting a leprechaun in a workhouse. The only solid comfort is that he certainly will not work.”
― G.K. Chesterton, The Collected Works of G.K. Chesterton Volume 28: The Illustrated London News, 1908-1910

“Everything you’re telling me was just a story, and now it’s real.”
― Kathy Bryson, Feeling Lucky

“A leprechaun did not just kill off my car in a hailstorm.”
― Kathy Bryson, Feeling Lucky

“Grabbing someone’s ass doesn’t count as capturing them!”
― Kathy Bryson, Feeling Lucky

“You didn’t make her sue you, even if you did punch her at that wedding.”
― Kathy Bryson, Feeling Lucky

“Oh, you’re hardly one to talk. Look where ogling a man got you.”
― Kathy Bryson, Feeling Lucky

“I'll not be lyin' if I tell ya that I fancy ya a bit myself."
"The fancy feelings are mutual."
A grin curved her lips right before Declan pressed a kiss to them.”
― Sara Humphreys, Luck of the Irish

“Are ya trying' to kill me, lass?"
"Kill you? No." Maggie leaned closer, her hands drifting up and cradling his face as she rolled her hips again in one wicked pass. "Torture you? Maybe.”
― Sara Humphreys, Luck of the Irish

“O, sir,' murmured Sheila, still on her knees, 'please forgive me.'

'Forgive you! 0, la, la, la!' cunningly cried the droll, and strutting like an actor. 'Forgiveness is easy, is it not? O, yes, it is nothing. You are a young woman full of pride. O. yes! - but that is nothing. And full of penitence, and that is nothing, too. Pride is nothing, penitence nothing, forgiveness nothing, but even a bargain in farthings must be paid to be made, and I am a plain business man. What costs nothing brings no balm, and you would not like that, you would not like that, now would you?' (“The Bogey Man”)”
― A.E. Coppard, Dusky Ruth and Other Stories

“I am Shiloh, whose box you stole. Your godmother's sickness lies in your own keeping, you can heal her in a moment. Make me your slave, and I must do your will.'

'You can do this,' Sheila said, 'without my taking a gift from you; you are wise and skilled. O do it, sir, and I will bless your name for ever.'

'Pooh! what is the good of that?' said he. 'No, I serve a master, the King of Kings, but we are emptiness itself without your mortal alloy. Do as I bid and I will serve you like a queen. And if you fear me you have only to put me to sleep and I shall sleep for seven hundred years.'

'No,' said the tempted girl slowly, 'not even for godmother can I do this; you are full of evil. Lies, lies! Why do you lie so?'

'O,' Shiloh said, 'because I am weary, and dissimulation is stimulation.'

'I don't understand that.'

'Well, it is so.' He yawned and yawned. 'Besides, I am the Other Side of things. All you think good may be bad, all you think bad may be good.'

'And I don't understand that.'

Shiloh replied: 'Strong meat for men and lily buds for maids; did Ajax feed on apples?'

'I beg your pardon, sir,' said Sheila.”
― A.E. Coppard, Dusky Ruth and Other Stories

“Are you trying to seduce me or trick me?”
― Kathy Bryson, Feeling Lucky

“No one ever said you can’t have world dominance and a little romance too.”
― Kathy Bryson, Feeling Lucky

“Scaoileadh Me....
'Release me.' That was what he said. No doubt about it. It was in Gaelic, but that was what the voice said.
Holy. Crap.”
― Sara Humphreys, Luck of the Irish

“Are ya tryin' to kill me, Maggie?" Declan bit the words out and his fingers dug deeper into her hips. "Are ya wantin' to see a grown man beg?”
― Sara Humphreys, Luck of the Irish

“She caught you. Therefore she gets your treasure.”
― Kathy Bryson, Feeling Lucky

“Don’t pinch that guy’s ass. He’s a leprechaun.”
― Kathy Bryson, Feeling Lucky

“It was never just about the money.”
― Kathy Bryson, Feeling Lucky

“Maggie had a sinking suspicion that those stories her Aunt Lizzie told her, the ones that sent her to bed with her head full of leprechauns and fairies, may be more than fairytales after all.”
― Sara Humphreys, Luck of the Irish

“Nothing good can come from a crack of dawn meeting on a Monday morning.”
― Kathy Bryson - Fighting Mad

“A wish for a kiss
on St. Patrick’s Day!
Catch a leprechaun
but don’t let him run.
Nay, kiss him right away!”
― Richelle E. Goodrich, Being Bold: Quotes, Poetry, & Motivations for Every Day of the Year

“This is my gift to you and your reward, Tom Mulligan, maker of ballads and journeyman worker in fine tales. 'Tis more than your wish was. Nayther you nor anyone who sits at your table, through all your life, will ever want a bite to ate or a sup to dhrink, nor yet a silver shilling to cheer him on his way. Good luck to all here and goodbye!" Even as they looked at the King he was gone, vanished like a light that's blown out-and they never saw him more.

But the news spread. Musicianers, poets, and story-tellers, and jayniouses flocked to the ballad maker's cabin from all over Ireland. Any fine day in the year one might see them gather in dozen knots before his door and into as many little crowds about the stable. In each crowd, from morning till night, there was a chune being played, a ballad sung, or a story being tould. Always one could find there blacksmiths, schoolmasters, and tinkers, and all trades, but the greater number be far, av coorse, were beggarmen.

Nor is that same to be wondhered at, bekase every jaynious, if he had his own way and could folly his own heart's desire'd start to-morrow at daybreak with the beggarman's staff and bag.

But wherever they came from, and whatever their station, Tom Mulligan stumped on his wooden leg from crowd to crowd, the jovial, happy master of them all.”
― Herminie Templeton Kavanagh, Darby O'Gill and the Good People

“Mensen vragen wel eens, geloof jij in God, Martinus? En dan zeg ik ja, uiteraard. Wat ik er dan niet bij vertel is dat ik ook geloof dat hij donkergroen is, inferieur aan de mens en uit op het stelen van mijn portemonnee. Want dan zit er altijd wel een slimmerik tussen die vraagt of God dan ook een hoed op heeft, en of ik hem niet met een leprechaun verwar, een schepsel waar de Nederlanders nooit een woord voor hebben uitgevonden. En ik zou niet weten wat ik daarop moet antwoorden, behalve dan dat God absoluut een hoed draagt, en zeer waarschijnlijk met een klavertje vier rondloopt, wat hij ook wel nodig heeft want ik heb helemaal geen portemonnee.”
― Martijn Benders

“He starts to turn away, then stops, scratching at his beard, considering something, before bending low in the grass and plucking something from the soil. He holds it out in his palm. "Good luck, giant," he says, nodding.
In his palm rests a tiny green leaf.
"It's a four-leaf clover," he explains with a wink. "And one that's been plucked from inside St. Patrick Town is particularly lucky."
I take the green clover from his palm and hold it up to the clouded sky, marveling at its four perfectly rounded leaves. It smells of soil and rain, resting delicately between my fingertips. And it looks just like the clover on the doorway into this realm.
"Thank you," I say to him, but when I glance up, he's already vanished into the thick green spruce trees and falling raindrops.”
― Shea Ernshaw, Long Live the Pumpkin Queen: Tim Burton’s The Nightmare Before Christmas