Michaleen Flynn Quotes in The Quiet Man (1952)

Mary Kate Danaher: Could you use a little water in your whiskey?

Michaleen Flynn: When I drink whiskey, I drink whiskey; and when I drink water, I drink water.

Michaleen Flynn: Well it's a nice, soft night, so I think I'll go and join me comrades and talk a little treason. G'night, Sean.

Thornton: G'night, Michaleen.

[last lines]

Michaleen Flynn: No patty-fingers, if you please. The proprieties at all times. Hold on to your hats.

Michaleen Flynn: Is this a courting or a donnybrook? Have the good manners not to hit the man until he's your husband and entitled to hit you back.

Michaleen Flynn: He's a nice, quiet, peace-loving man, come home to Ireland to forget his troubles. Sure, yes, yes, he's a millionare, you know, like all the Yanks. But he's eccentric - ooh, he is eccentric! Wait 'til I show ya... his bag to sleep in - a sleeping bag, he calls it! Here, let me show you how it operates.

Thornton: I don't get this. Why do we have to get you along? Back in the States, I'd drive up, honk the horn, the gal'd come runnin'...

Mary Kate Danaher: Come a-runnin'? I'm no woman to be honked at and come a-runnin'!

Michaleen Flynn: America - ha! Prohibition! You see that over there? That's the ancestral home of ancient Flynns. It was taken from us by... by... by the Druids!

[stops the cart]

Michaleen Flynn: Quietest couple I ever heard. We'll get nowhere at this rate. Off with ya!

[Sean tries to help Mary Kate down]

Michaleen Flynn: She's a fine healthy girl - no patty-fingers if ya please!

Michaleen Flynn: [on seeing the broken bed] Impetuous! Homeric!

Michaleen Flynn: I have... I have come.

Mary Kate Danaher: Oh, I can see that. But from whose pub was it?

Michaleen Flynn: Pub? Pub? You've the face of an angel with the tongue of an adder. I have a good mind to go about me own business and tell Thon Shorton he's better off without ya!

Mary Kate Danaher: Wait a minute, what was that?

Michaleen Flynn: Well ye be listenin' then and not interrupting the shockelhorn - the matchmaker... I have come at the request of Thon Shorton...

Mary Kate Danaher: Sean Thornton.

Michaleen Flynn: Shut up... bachelor and party of the first part, to ask if you, uh - strictly informally, mind you - eh, Mary Kate Danaher, spinster, and party of the second part.

Mary Kate Danaher: Well. Go on. You were sayin'?

Michaleen Flynn: Actually... me mouth is like a dry crust and the sun is that hot on me pate.

Mary Kate Danaher: Will you be steppin' into the parlor? The house may belong to my brother, but what's in the parlor belongs to me.

Michaleen Flynn: I will then... and I hope there's a bottle there, whoever it belongs to...

"Red Will" Danaher: If you've come for supper, you're late.

Michaleen Flynn: A gracious invitation, but, thank you, no.

Michaleen Flynn: [looking thirsty] I don't suppose there's a drop of anything wet in the house?

"Red Will" Danaher: Help yourself to the buttermilk.

Michaleen Flynn: Buttermilk!

[shudders and in sotto voice]

Michaleen Flynn: The *Borgias* would do better.

Michaleen Flynn: ...and her with her freckles and her temper. Oh, that red head of hers is no lie.

Michaleen Flynn: [Looking at the reverend] Three Our Fathers and three Hail Marys.

"Red Will" Danaher: So the I.R.A.'s in this too, huh?

Hugh Forbes: If it were, Red Will Danaher, not a scorched stone 'o your fine house'd be standin'.

Michaleen Flynn: A beautiful sentiment!

Michaleen Flynn: Two women in the house - and one of them a redhead!

Michaleen Flynn: [Chasing Sean and Mary Kate on horse, the horse instinctively stops in front of Cohan's Bar. Talking to horse] I... I Think you have more sense then I have me-self.

Michaleen Flynn: None 'o that now, none 'o that. It's a bold sinful man y'are Sean Thornton. And who taught you to be playin' patty-fingers in the Holy Water?

Thornton: Just bein' polite, is all.

Michaleen Flynn: And Mary Kate Danaher dippin' her fingers in as neat as you please.

Michaleen Flynn: I could tell you blood curdling stories about him but, but me throat, me throat's gone dry.

Ignatius Feeney: A pound on Thornton against the Squire!

Michaleen Flynn: Go away, ye traiter, ya!