Irish - Author | August 19, 1930 - July 19, 2009
My mother had had six children in five and a half years, and three of them died in that time.
Frank McCourt
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I worked in a number of high schools in New York, and I wound up at Stuyvesant High School, which is known nationally for producing brilliant scientists and mathematicians, but I had writing classes. I thought I was teaching. They thought I was teaching, but I was learning.
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I couldn't fit in the Irish community in New York. I was never one of the boys because they would talk about baseball or basketball, and I knew nothing about it.
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Even when I went to the Lion's Head in the Village, where all you journalists would hang out, I was always peripheral. I was never really part of anything except the classroom. That's where I belonged.
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There's nothing in the world like getting up in front of a high-school classroom in New York City. They won't give you a break if you don't hold them. There's no escape.
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There was a kind of madness in the country. Eamon De Valera, the prime minister, had this vision of an Ireland where we'd all be in some kind of native costume - which doesn't exist - and we'd be dancing at the crossroads, babbling away in Gaelic, going to Mass, everyone virginal and pure.
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People come up to me and talk about the alcoholism in their family.
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Everyone has a story to tell. All you have to do is write it. But it's not that easy.
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We've had enough of the generals and movie stars. We want to hear about the ordinary people.
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In public schools, classes are bloated - it's ridiculous.
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My dream was to have a Library of Congress catalogue number, that's all.
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We were below welfare. We begged from people on welfare. My father tried to repair our shoes with pieces of bicycle tires.
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