We have always found the Irish a bit odd. They refuse to be English.

The Irish job was something that had to be sorted out.

My mother is Irish, my father is black and Venezuelan, and me - I'm tan, I guess.

There is not a single injustice in Northern Ireland that is worth the loss of a single British soldier or a single Irish citizen either.

My father was totally Irish, and so I went to Ireland once. I found it to be very much like New York, for it was a beautiful country, and both the women and men were good-looking.

Yancy is actually a Native-American name, but I'm Irish. Go figure.

In old times people used to try and square the circle; now they try and devise schemes for satisfying the Irish nation.

I suffer from Irish-Catholic guilt. Guilt is a good reality check. It keeps that 'do what makes you happy' thing in check.

I have a thing for red-haired Irish boys, as we know.

I had to have some balls to be Irish Catholic in South London. Most of that time I spent fighting.

It is sufficient to say, what everybody knows to be true, that the Irish population is Catholic, and that the Protestants, whether of the Episcopalian or Presbyterian Church, or of both united, are a small minority of the Irish people.

That's what the holidays are for - for one person to tell the stories and another to dispute them. Isn't that the Irish way?

Being Irish was a big thing for me, particularly growing up in Chicago.

I've had Irish skin from the time I was a young girl.

I wrote a script. I actually enjoyed writing it more than acting. It's about the Irish rebellion of 1920, which is a fascinating period and place for me.