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People Everywhere Brag And Whimper About The Woes Of Their Early Years, But Nothing Can Compare With The Irish Version: The Poverty; The Shiftless Loquacious Father; The Pious Defeated Mother Moaning By The Fire; Pompous Priests; Bullying School Masters; The English And The Terrible Things They Did To Us For Eight Hundred Long Years. Above All -- We Were Wet.

-Frank McCourt

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People Everywhere Brag And

Frank McCourt

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People Everywhere Brag And Whimper About The Woes Of Their Early Years, But Nothing Can Compare With The Irish Version: The Poverty; The Shiftless Loquacious Father; The Pious Defeated Mother Moaning By The Fire; Pompous Priests; Bullying School Masters; The English And The Terrible Things They Did To Us For Eight Hundred Long Years. Above All -- We Were Wet.

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It's Not Enough To Be American. You Always Have To Be Something Else, Irish-american, German-american, And You'd Wonder How They'd Get Along If Someone Hadn't Invented The Hyphen

I Don't Know What It Means And I Don't Care Because It's Shakespeare And It's Like Having Jewels In My Mouth When I Say The Words.

I Asked My Dad What Afflicted Meant And He Said 'sickness Son, And Things That Don't Fit.'

The English Wouldn't Give You The Steam Of Their Piss.

There's Nothing Sillier In The World Than A Teacher Telling You Don't Do It After You Already Did It.

I Told Her Tea Bags Were Just A Convenience For People With Busy Lives And She Said No One Is So Busy They Can't Take Time To Make A Decent Cup Of Tea And If You Are That Busy You Don't Deserve A Decent Cup Of Tea For What Is It All About Anyway? Are We Put Into This World To Be Busy Or To Chat Over A Nice Cup Of Tea?

I Don't Absolve My Father Completely Of His Responsibility For What He Did To Us I Feel Compassion, Maybe. He Had His Demons. But I Still Can't Understand How A Man Can Walk Away From Children. And Leave Them To Starve, As We Nearly Did, If It Wasn't For My Mother Going Out And Begging.

Just Let Them Sit In The Goddam Sun. But The World Won't Let Them Because There's Nothing More Dangerous Than Letting Old Farts Sit In The Sun. They Might Be Thinking. Same Thing With Kids. Keep 'em Busy Or They Might Start Thinking.

In The High School Classroom You Are A Drill Sergent, A Rabbi, A Shoulder To Cry On, A Disciplinarian, A Singer, A Low-level Scholar, A Clerk, A Referee, A Clown, A Counselor, A Dress-code Enforcer, A Conductor, An Apologist, A Philosopher, A Collaborator, A Tap Dancer, A Politician, A Therapist, A Fool, A Traffic Cop, A Priest, A Mother-father-brother-sister-uncle-aunt, A Bookeeper, A Critic, A Psychologist, The Last Straw.

I've Been Writing In Notebooks For 40 Years Or So.

After A Full Belly All Is Poetry.

I Am Not Living The American Dream; I Am Living The American Fantasy.

My Childhood Here... Was Very Limited. So It Was A Long, Long Time Before I Actually Went Out To Brooklyn.

Andy Says, I Don't Understand How They Can Give Loans To People Who Want To Spend Two Weeks Lying On The Sand At The Goddam Jersey Shore And Then Turn Down A Woman With Three Kids Hanging On By Her Fingernails.

I Don't Believe In Happiness Anyway... It's Too Much Of An American Pastime, This Search For Happiness. Just Forget Happiness And Enjoy Your Misery.

You Have To Give Yourself Credit, Not Too Much Because That Would Be Bragging.

Teacher? I Never Dreamed I Could Rise So High In The World

I Just Have To Proceed As Usual. No Matter What Happens, Nothing Helps With The Writing Of The Next Book.

Oh, God Above, If Heaven Has A Taste It Must Be An Egg With Butter And Salt, And After The Egg Is There Anything In The World Lovelier Than Fresh Warm Bread And A Mug Of Sweet Golden Tea?

I Think I Settled On The Title Before I Ever Wrote The Book.

You Feel A Sense Of Urgency, Especially At My Advanced Age, When You're Staring Into The Grave.

There’s No Use Saying Anything In The Schoolyard Because There’s Always Someone With An Answer And There’s Nothing You Can Do But Punch Them In The Nose And If You Were To Punch Everyone Who Has An Answer You’d Be Punching Morning Noon And Night.

Love Her As In Childhood Through Feeble, Old And Grey. For You’ll Never Miss A Mother’s Love Till She’s Buried Beneath The Clay.

If You Were Mean To Your Parents, They'd Give You A Good Belt In The Gob And Send You Flying Across The Room.

They All Went Into The Bar Business. Which Was A Mistake, Because They Began To Sip At The Merchandise And It Set Them Back, Set Us All Back. Well, Them More Than I.

I'm Not One Of Those James Joyce Intellectuals Who Can Stand Back And Look At The Whole Edifice... It Was A Slow Process For Me To Just Crawl Out Of It, Like A Snake Leaving His Skin Behind.

Shakespeare Is Like Mashed Potatoes, You Can Never Get Enough Of Him.

Mashed Potatoes

And, Of Course, They've Always Condemned Dancing. You Know, You Might Touch A Member Of The Opposite Sex. And You Might Get Excited And You Might Do Something Natural.

I Can't Go Back. The Past Won't Go Away In This Family.

Bless Me, Father, For I Have Sinned, It's Been A Minute Since My Last Confession.

The Master Says It's A Glorious Thing To Die For The Faith And Dad Says It's A Glorious Thing To Die For Ireland And I Wonder If There's Anyone In The World Who Would Like Us To Live. My Brothers Are Dead And My Sister Is Dead And I Wonder If They Died For Ireland Or For The Faith. Dad Says They Were Too Young To Die For Anything. Mam Says It Was Disease And Starvation And Him Never Having A Job. Dad Says, Och, Angela, Puts On His Cap, And Goes For A Long Walk.

He Says, You Have To Study And Learn So That You Can Make Up Your Own Mind About History And Everything Else But You Can't Make Up An Empty Mind. Stock Your Mind, Stock Your Mind. You Might Be Poor , Your Shoes Might Be Broken , But Your Mind Is A Palace.

I'm More Interested In Writing Than In Performing.

You Never Know When You Might Come Home And Find Mam Sitting By The Fire Chatting With A Woman And A Child, Strangers. Always A Woman And Child. Mam Finds Them Wandering The Streets And If They Ask, Could You Spare A Few Pennies, Miss? Her Heart Breaks. She Never Has Money So She Invites Them Home For Tea And A Bit Of Fried Bread And If It's A Bad Night She'll Let Them Sleep By The Fire On A Pile Of Rags In The Corner. The Bread She Gives Them Always Means Less For Us And If We Complain She Says There Are Always People Worse Off And We Can Surely Spare A Little From What We Have.

I Can't Go Too Much Into My Domestic Life Because There Are Ex-wives Ready To Do Me In.

First Of All There Is Always That Artistic Challenge Of Creating Something. Or The Particular Experience To Take Slum Life In That Period And Make Something Out Of It In The Form Of A Book. And Then I Felt Some Kind Of Responsibility To My Family.

When I Look Back On My Childhood I Wonder How I Survived At All. It Was, Of Course, A Miserable Childhood: The Happy Childhood Is Hardly Worth Your While. Worse Than The Ordinary Miserable Childhood Is The Miserable Irish Childhood, And Worse Yet Is The Miserable Irish Catholic Childhood.

Sit And Quiet Yourself. Luxuriate In A Certain Memory And The Details Will Come. Let The Images Flow. You'll Be Amazed At What Will Come Out On Paper. I'm Still Learning What It Is About The Past That I Want To Write. I Don't Worry About It. It Will Emerge. It Will Insist On Being Told.

Stock Your Mind. It Is Your House Of Treasure And No One In The World Can Interfere With It.

Where Did I Get The Nerve To Think I Could Handle American Teenagers? Ignorance. That's Where I Got The Nerve.

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They Can Afford To Smile Because They All Have Teeth So Dazzling If They Dropped Them In The Snow They'd Be Lost Forever.

I Learned The Significance Of My Own Insignificant Life.

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People Everywhere Brag And Whimper About The Woes Of Their Early Years, But Nothing Can Compare With The Irish Version: The Poverty; The Shiftless Loquacious Father; The Pious Defeated Mother Moaning By The Fire; Pompous Priests; Bullying School Masters; The English And The Terrible Things They Did To Us For Eight Hundred Long Years. Above All -- We Were Wet.

The Happy Childhood Is Hardly Worth Your While.

Happy Childhood

Sing Your Song. Dance Your Dance. Tell Your Tale.

Happiness Is Hard To Recall. Its Just A Glow.

I Must Congratulate Myself, In Passing, For Never Having Lost The Ability To Examine My Conscience, Never Having Lost The Gift Of Finding Myself Wanting & Defective. Why Fear The Criticism Of Others When You, Yourself, Are First Out Of The Critical Gate? If Self-denigration Is The Race I Am The Winner, Even Before The Starting Gun. Collect The Bets.

Actually, My Mother And Alfie Came For Three Weeks Christmas Vacation And Stayed For 21 Years. I Guess My Mother Never Went Back Because She Was Lonely.

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We Never Really Had Any Kind Of A Christmas. This Is One Part Where My Memory Fails Me Completely.

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