The Best Colm Doherty Quotes

Priest: Wouldn't you say punching a policeman is a sin?
Colm: Ah here. If punching a policeman is a sin, we may as well just pack up and go home.

Colm: I was too harsh yesterday.
Pádraic: Yesterday, he says! I know well you was too harsh yesterday.
Colm: I just... I just have this tremendous sense of time slipping away on me, Padraic. And I think I need to spend the time I have left thinking and composing. Just trying not to listen to any more of the dull things you have to say for yourself. But I am sorry about it. I am, like.
Pádraic: Are you dying?
Colm: No, I'm not dying.
Pádraic: But then you have loads of time.
Colm: For chatting?
Pádraic: Aye.
Colm: For aimless chatting?
Pádraic: Not for aimless chatting. For good, normal chatting.
Colm: So we'll keep aimlessly chatting and my life will keep on dwindling. And in 12 years, I'll die with nothin' to show for it, bar the chats I've had with a limited man, is that it?
Pádraic: I said, "not aimless chatting" I said "Good, normal chatting."
Colm: The other night, two hours, you spent talking to me about the things you found in your little donkey's shite that day. Two hours, Padraic. I timed it.
Pádraic: Well it wasn't me little donkey's shite, was it? It was me pony's shite. Which shows how much you were listenin'.
Colm: None of it helps me. Do you understand? None of it helps me.
Pádraic: [after Colm leaves] We'll just talk about something else, then!

Siobhan: What do you need from him, Colm? To end all this?
Colm: Silence, Siobhan. Just silence.
Siobhan: One more silent man on Inisherin, good-oh! Silence it is, so.
Colm: This isn't about Inisherin. It's about one boring man leaving another man alone, that's all.
Siobhan: One boring man! You're all fucking boring! With your piddling grievances over nothin'! You're all fucking boring! I'll see he doesn't talk to you no more.
Colm: Do. Else it'll be all four of them the next time, not just the one.
Siobhan: You're not serious. Well, that won't help your fecking music.
Colm: Aye. We're gettin' somewhere now.
Siobhan: I think you might be ill, Colm.

Colm: Ah, well, I suppose niceness doesn't last then, does it, Padraic? But will I tell ya something that does last?
Pádraic: What? And don't say somethin' stupid like music.
Colm: Music lasts.
Pádraic: Knew it!
Colm: And paintings last. And poetry lasts.
Pádraic: So does niceness.
Colm: Do you know who we remember for how nice they was in the 17th century?
Pádraic: Who?
Colm: Absolutely no one. Yet we all remember the music of the time. Everyone, to a man, knows Mozart's name.
Pádraic: Well, I don't, so there goes that theory. And anyway, we're talkin' about niceness. Not what's his name. My mammy, she was nice. I remember her. And my daddy, he was nice. I remember him. And my sister, she's nice. I'll remember her. Forever I'll remember her.
Colm: And who else will?
Pádraic: Who else will what?
Pádraic: Remember Siobhan and your niceness? No one will. In 50 years' time, no one will remember any of us. Yet the music of a man who lived two centuries ago...
Pádraic: "Yet" he says, like he's English.
Siobhan: Come home, Padraic.
Pádraic: I don't give a feck about Mozart. Or Borvoven. Or any of them funny name feckers. I'm Pádraic Súilleabháin. And I'm nice.

Pádraic: There's two of us in this!
Colm: No, there isn't!
Pádraic: It takes two to tango.
Colm: I don't want to tango.
Pádraic: You were dancing with your dog...

Pádraic: Well, don't ask a man to call up to ya at your fecking house, so, like he has nothing better to do with his fecking time.
Colm: I didn't ask you to call up to me at me house. And you do have nothing better to do with your fecking time.
Pádraic: Huh?
Colm: You do have nothing better to do with your fecking time.
Pádraic: I know I've nothing better to do with me fecking time, but there's better things I could be doing with me fecking time than to be calling up to ya at your house, Colm Doherty!
Colm: Like what?
Pádraic: Huh?
Colm: Like what else could you be doin'?
Pádraic: Reading.
Colm: Reading, yeah? Me, this morning... this I wrote. Tomorrow, I'll write the second part of it. And the day after, I'll write the third part of it. And by Wednesday, there'll be a new tune in the world, which wouldn't have been there if I'd spent the week listening to your bollocks, Padraic Suilleabhain. So, do you want to take your pint outside, or do you want me to take my pint outside?
Pádraic: I'll take my pint outside, 'cause it's a shite tune anyways, I wouldn't bother with it.

Siobhan: Has he said somethin' to ya when he was drunk?
Colm: No, I prefer him when he's drunk. It's all the rest of the time I have the problem with.
Siobhan: What's the fecking matter, then?
Colm: He's dull, Siobhan.
Siobhan: He's what?
Colm: He's dull.
Siobhan: But he's always been dull. What's changed?
Colm: I've changed. I just don't have a place for dullness in me life anymore.
Siobhan: But you live on an island off the coast of Ireland, Colm. What the hell are you hoping for, like?
Colm: For a bit of peace, Siobhan. That's all. For a bit of peace in me heart, like. You can understand that. Can't ya? Can't ya?

Pádraic: What's your tune called?
Colm: The Banshees of Inisherin, I think.
Pádraic: But, there are no banshees on Inisherin.
Colm: I know, I just like the double S-H sounds.

Peadar: Aye. Off to the mainland in the morning I'm headin'. That's why I need the clean shirt, like. 'And why are you off to the mainland in the mornin', Peadar?' Oh, thanks for asking, Colm. I'll tell ya why. They've asked for extra manpower for a couple of the executions in case there's any kind of a to-do, like. Six bob and a free lunch they're payin' me. And sure I'd have gone for nothin'. I've always wanted to see an execution, haven't you? Although, I'd have preferred a hanging.
Colm: Who are they executin'?
Peadar: The Free State lads are executin' a couple of the IRA lads. Or is it the other way around? I find it hard to follow these days. Wasn't it so much easier when we was all on the same side, and it was just the English we was killin'? I think it was. I preferred it.
Colm: But you don't care who's executin' who?
Peadar: For six bob and a free lunch, I don't care! They could be executin' you. Why don't you come with me? You could write a miserable feckin' song about it. Nah, I'm only messin'.

Pádraic: Do you know what you used to be?
Colm: No, what did I used to be?
Pádraic: Nice! You used to be nice! And now, do you know what you are? Not nice.
Colm: Ah, well, I suppose niceness doesn't last then, does it?

Siobhan: You can't just all of a sudden stop being friends with a fella!
Colm: Why can't I?
Siobhan: Why can't ya? Because it isn't nice.

Priest: It isn't him you have the impure thoughts about, is it?
Colm: Are you joking me? I mean, are you fecking joking me?
Priest: People do have impure thoughts about men, too.
Colm: Do you have impure thoughts about men, Father?
Priest: I do not have impure thoughts about men. And how dare you say that about a man of the cloth?
Colm: Well, you started it.
Priest: Well, you can get out of my confessional right now, so you can. And I'm not forgiving you any of these things until the next time, so I'm not!
Colm: Well, I better not be dying in the meantime then, eh, Father? I'll be pure fecked!
Priest: You will be pure fecked! Yes, you will be pure fecked!

Pádraic: Now... if I've done somethin' to ya, just tell me what I've done to ya. And if I've said somethin' to ya or maybe if I've said somethin' when I was drunk and forgotten it. But I don't think I've said somethin' when I was drunk and I've forgotten it. But if I did, then tell me what it was. And I'll say sorry for that too Colm. With all me heart, I'll say sorry. Just stop running away from me like some fool of a moody school child.
Colm: But you didn't say anything to me. And you didn't do anything to me.
Pádraic: Well that's what I was thinking, like.
Colm: I just don't like ya no more.
Pádraic: [hurt and disbelieving] You do like me.
Colm: I don't.
Pádraic: But you liked me yesterday.
Colm: Oh, did I, yeah?
Pádraic: I thought you did...

Pádraic: [bursting into Colm's house] How are ya, fatty? Dancing with your dog, is it? Well who else is gonna dance with ya? Your poor dog has no say in the matter. And if you're too rude to be offering me a seat, I'll be taking one of me own accord!
Pádraic: [sits] How's that for an old hello?
Colm: Have you gone fecking mental?
Pádraic: Have I gone fecking mental? No I haven't gone fecking mental. Not only have I not gone fecking mental, but I have got ten fingers to prove I'm not fecking mental. How many fingers have you got to prove you're not fecking mental?
Colm: Nine fingers.
Pádraic: Nine fingers is the epitome of mental.

Colm: If punching a policeman is a sin, we may as well just pack up and go home.

Colm: So, let's just call it quits and agree to go our separate ways, for good this time.
Pádraic: Your fat fingers killed me little donkey today. So, no, we won't call it quits. We'll call it the start.
Colm: You're jokin' me.
Pádraic: Yeah, no. I'm not jokin' ya. So tomorrow, Sunday, God's day, around 2:00, I'm going to call up to your house and I'm gonna set fire to it, and hopefully you'll still be inside it. But I won't be checkin' either way. Just be sure and leave your dog outside. I've nothing against that gom. Or you can do whatever's in your power to stop me. To our graves we're taking this. To one of our graves, anyways.

[last lines]
Colm: Pádraic. Thanks for lookin' after me dog for me, anyways.
Pádraic: Anytime.

Colm: Niceness doesn't last.

Colm: I do worry sometimes I might just be entertaining myself while staving off the inevitable.

Siobhan: He won't be bothering you no more.
Colm: That's a shame. That's the most interesting he's ever been. I think I like him again now.

Priest: Do you think God gives a damn about miniature donkeys, Colm?
Colm: I fear he doesn't. And I fear that's where it's all gone wrong.

Colm: If you don't stop talkin' to me, and if you don't stop botherin' me, or sendin' your sister or your priest to bother me...
Pádraic: I didn't send me sister to bother you, did I? She has her own mind. Although, I did send the priest though, you have me there.
Colm: What I've decided to do is this. I have a set of shears at home. And each time you bother me from this day on, I'll take those shears and I'll take one of me fingers off with them. And I'll give that finger to ya. A finger from me left hand. Me fiddle hand. And each day you bother me more, another I'll take off and I'll give ya until you see sense enough to stop. Or until I have no fingers left. Does this make things clearer to ya?
Pádraic: Not really, no.
Colm: Because I don't want to hurt your feelings, Padraic. I don't, like. But it feels like the drastic is the only option left open to me.
Pádraic: You've loads of options left open to ya. How's fingers the first port of call?
Colm: Please, don't talk to me no more, Padraic. Please. I'm begging you.
Pádraic: But...
Jonjo: Shush, like, Padraic. Just, you know, shush, like.
Gerry: Yeah, I'd shush, like.
Pádraic: I will shush. Except me and me sister were thinking, you might just be a bit depressed, Colm. And I tell you this much, fingers just confirms it. Don't you think, Colm?
Colm: Starting from now.