The Best Pádraic Súilleabháin Quotes

Dominic: I used to think you were the nicest of them. Turns out you're just the same as them.
Pádraic: I am the nicest of them.

Pádraic: It was all going fine until he chopped off all his fingers.

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!

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...

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.

Pádraic: Some things there's no moving on from. And I think that's a good thing.

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.

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: I don't like to be chatting about these types of things, Dominic!
Dominic: What types of things?
Pádraic: Sisters with no clothes on!
Dominic: You saw my daddy with no clothes on.
Pádraic: Till the day I die, I wish I hadn't.
Dominic: Sure, don't I know it.

Pádraic: They don't think I'm dim or anything?
Siobhan: Dim? No.
Pádraic: You don't seem very sure about it.
Siobhan: Of course, I'm sure about it.
Pádraic: Dominic's the dim one on the island, isn't he?
Siobhan: He is, aye. By miles.
Pádraic: Uh, hang on, by miles. And then, who's the next dimmest?
Siobhan: Well, I don't like to judge people in those terms now, do I?
Pádraic: In what terms?
Siobhan: In order of their dimness.
Pádraic: Well, I know you don't. And neither do I, do I? But try, like.
Siobhan: No! I won't try. There's enough judgy people on this fecking island, so no! You're not dim! You're a nice man, all right? So, move on!
Pádraic: I'm as clever as you, anyways. I know that at least.
Siobhan: Yeah, don't be fucking stupid.

Pádraic: I am not putting me donkey outside when I'm sad, okay?

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

Dominic: What trouble are ya in with him?
Pádraic: He just... doesn't want to be friends with me any more.
Dominic: What is he, twelve?

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.

Pádraic: I think.
Jonjo: Ah, you don't, Padraic.
Gerry: You don't, Padraic.
Jonjo: Your sister does.
Gerry: Your sister does, aye. Siobhan does.
Jonjo: You're more of a...
Gerry: You're more of a... What is he?
Jonjo: You're more one of life's good guys.
Gerry: You're more one of life's good guys, aye. Apart from when you're drunk.
Jonjo: Apart from when you're drunk, aye.
Pádraic: I used to think that'd be a nice thing to be. One of life's good guys. And now, it sounds like the worst thing I ever heard.
Jonjo: Ah, don't take it like that, Padraic.
Gerry: Don't take it like that, Padraic. We're on your side.

Pádraic: You used to be nice. Or did you never used to be? Oh, God. Maybe you never used to be.

Pádraic: It's about your daddy.
Declan: What about Daddy?
Pádraic: Uh, bread van crashed into him.
Declan: The bread van?
Pádraic: Yeah. They said you'd best hurry home to him, lest he should die all alone.
Declan: Die?
Pádraic: Or get worse, all alone.
Declan: This is impossible.
Pádraic: It's not impossible. Bread vans crash into people all the time.
Declan: I know! That's how me mammy died. If it's the same fecking bread van, I'll kill them.

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.

Pádraic: What the hell was he hittin' you with?
Dominic: A kettle was the final thing. I wouldn't minded, but for the spout.

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.

[first lines]
Pádraic: Colm? Are you coming out to the pub, Colm? It's two o' clock, like. Will I see you down there so? I'll see you down there so.

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?

Pádraic: So you'd rather be friends with this fella, would ya? A fella who beats his own son black and blue every night that's he's not fiddling with him.
Dominic: I never told him that, daddy. He's just drunk now.

Pádraic: We haven't been rowing. I don't think we've been rowing. Have we been rowing?

Gerry: Are you rowing?
Pádraic: I didn't think we were rowing.
Gerry: Well, you are rowing.
Jonjo: Well, you are rowing. He's sitting outside on his own like a whatchamacallit.
Pádraic: It does look like we're rowing.

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.

Mrs. McCormick: A death shall come to Inisherin afore the month is out.
Pádraic: A death, huh?
Mrs. McCormick: Maybe even two deaths.
Pádraic: Well, that'd be sad.
Mrs. McCormick: We shall pray to the Lord 'tis neither you, nor poor Siobhan, will be either of them.
Pádraic: Well, is that a nice thing to be sayin'?
Mrs. McCormick: I wasn't trying to be nice. I was trying to be accurate.