Aunt Sarah: Look, Mary. Are they for Mammy's grave, Da?
Joe: Aye.
Mary: Ten years gone, would you believe it?
Joe: I don't know why I bother. That Kitty O'Donnell next door, sure her plot's like a jungle.
Aunt Sarah: It is a disgrace.
Joe: If that useless bloody husband of hers doesn't get his finger out soon, I'll give it a going over myself.
Aunt Sarah: Daddy, how many times? You can't strim the grave of another man's wife. It's inappropriate.
Joe: You could rear cattle in it, Sarah.

Mary: Ten years, and not a peep out of her.
Gerry: Who?
Aunt Sarah: Mammy.
Mary: Ten years, and nothing.
Joe: I don't know what she's playing at. There's no excuse for it, love.
Gerry: Her being dead is sort of an excuse. No?
Joe: She couldn't give us a sign? She couldn't rattle a teapot or something?

Mary: Even so, Sarah, wouldn't you like to know that Mammy's happy, that she's at peace now?
Joe: I'd give anything to speak to her again.
Mary: Ach, Daddy.
Joe: Love to know what the hell she did with my good electric razor.

Soldier: Licence. Where have you come from today?
James: Er, Derry. Er, Londonderry. Derry. L-Londonderry.
Michelle: Calm the fuck down, James.
Soldier: You English?
James: Yeah.
Michelle: He's fine. We didn't bring him up here to kill him or anything.
James: She's my cousin.
Soldier: Oh, right. Not properly English, then.
James: I can't win!

Soldier: So how long do you plan to stay in the Republic of Ireland?
James: Just overnight.
Soldier: The purpose of your visit?
Orla: We're gonna go ride some farmers.
Soldier: Right, fine. Go on.

James: Can anyone ask her where this place is?
Clare: Hmm, my Irish isn't the best. I decided to keep on French and German, because I thought it would give me more options if I wanted to, like, study abroad or whatever.
Michelle: We're not filling in your fucking UCAS form here, Clare.

Sheila: Chonaic me an diabhal amhain.
Clare: What's she saying?
Sheila: [Irish exclamation] Chonaic me an diabhal amhain! [Irish exclamation]
Michelle: Just drive, James.
Sheila: Slan!
Erin: Slan!

Erin: OK, so I think she said she saw the devil up here, or beware of the devil. I mean, it definitely it had a devil-y vibe.
Michelle: Who gives a fuck about the devil? The devil's a dick. [tires blows]
Clare: What was that?
James: Shit. Flat tyre.
Michelle: Oh, well done, James.
James: It's not my fault.
Clare: Yeah, you were the one slagging off the Devil, Michelle.
Michelle: Oh, right, of course, the Devil gave us a flat tyre.
Orla: You were saying some pretty lousy things about him, Michelle.
Michelle: He's the Devil.

Michelle: What the fuck is he playing at now?
Erin: You knocked him down, Michelle!
Michelle: I wasn't driving! Only James could manage to get himself run over by a stationary fucking van.
Orla: Is he dead?
Michelle: Course he's not. He's grand. James... James. James... James? James.
Erin: Right, well, that's not working!
Clare: Let's just get him to the house and we can ring for help.
Erin: Come on, Michelle.
Michelle: [holding crate] Oh, right. It's just, I can't carry him and the drinks, so...
Erin: Then put the Hooch down.
Michelle: Honest to Christ! Ugh!

Clare: I think I'm gonna die!
Erin: For the love of God, what does he eat?!
Michelle: How could someone this skinny be this heavy?