A Quote by Kevin Barry

I go to Spain a lot, in winter, for a blast of sunlight to banish the blues brought on by the Irish greys and drizzle. I love the cities of the Spanish interior. — © Kevin Barry
I go to Spain a lot, in winter, for a blast of sunlight to banish the blues brought on by the Irish greys and drizzle. I love the cities of the Spanish interior.
I went to study in Spain for a year after school. It was either that or Russian, so I went for the easy option. I love Spain and go quite regularly. I've done a bit of Spanish theatre.
Castilian Spanish-speaking Spain is big, but is bigger in addition with Catalonian-speaking Spain, Galician-speaking Spain and Basque-speaking Spain. Democratic Spain, Constitutional Spain, can not be separated from diversity and the respect to the citizenship.
The Spanish and Cuban people have the same kind of wakes the Irish do. They go on for two or three days and drink a lot of booze and eat a lot of food.
Wherever they went the Irish brought with them their books, many unseen in Europe for centuries and tied to their waists as signs of triumph, just as Irish heroes had once tied to their waists their enemies' heads. Where they went they brought their love of learning and their skills in bookmaking. In the bays and valleys of their exile, they reestablished literacy and breathed new life into the exhausted literary culture of Europe. And that is how the Irish saved civilization.
When I go to Colombia or Mexico, I speak Spanish. When I go to Italy, I speak Italian. When I'm in Germany, I speak German. Would I expect them to speak English in these countries? No. I mean, great if they do, but no. Would I be offended if in Spain they say we speak Spanish? No. If I was an immigrant there, no.
I don't speak Spanish. I understand enough of it, having spent some time running Telemundo, and I put in a lot of time in Spain during the Barcelona Olympics. But I don't pretend to speak Spanish, and I don't want anyone to think that I can.
I went through the communist children's movement at the age of nine, in 1930, and into the Young Communist League in 1936. The Spanish civil war brought me back. I'd already broken with the communists - or the Stalinists, more precisely - in 1935. But the civil war in Spain and the desire to aid the remarkable people struggling against Fascism brought me back to the Young Communist League, so that I could effectively participate, however far removed from Spain, in their struggle. By 1938 I was ready to be expelled. By 1939 I was expelled.
I'm a whole lot more than just Spanish or Irish or whatever, but definitely, it's given me help. It's given me a push, and I'm very proud of my Spanish heritage.
My Spanish is getting a little bit loose. Sometimes I go to Spain and after I've been talking with my folks for a while... you start changing the verb for the adjective, for example, which is a common thing between Spanish and English. I change that sometimes but after a couple days there, boom, I'm back.
The running joke about the Premio Cervantes, the most coveted literary prize in the Spanish-speaking world, which was established by Spain's Ministry of Culture in 1976, is that Cervantes himself wouldn't have received it. This is because he was, in his heart, the most anti-Spanish of Spanish writers.
If you want to be anonymous, you can go to Soho or Camden, and it's not a problem. There are a lot of Spanish people. If you go to Piccadilly or Oxford Circus, you hear lots of Spanish voices, but I'm not recognised much.
There are happy blues, sad blues, lonesome blues, red-hot blues, mad blues, and loving blues. Blues is a testimony to the fullness of life.
I like having a lot of sunlight because it helps me wake up. And I don't get depressed in winter.
I grew up speaking Spanish. The woman who helped raise me was only Spanish-speaking, so it was one of my primary languages as a kid. And I lived in Spain for a while.
I don't remember any impression [from blues].The blues was just everywhere in the Mississippi Delta. It was mostly black sharecroppers living there, and there was a lot of blues around. Sometimes the guys would sing the blues in the fields, working.
I was a disruptive student. I hated my teachers, especially my Spanish teacher. When I went to see the musical 'Matilda,' the horrible Miss Trunchbull brought back all sorts of horrible memories. I'd go into Spanish class, put on headphones, and sing at the top of my lungs until they threw me out.
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