"We went out to break the connection between this country and the British Empire, and to establish an Irish Republic. We believed that the call we then issued to the people of Ireland, was a nobler call, in a holier cause, than any call issued to them during this war, having any connection with the war. We succeeded in proving that Irishmen are ready to die endeavouring to win for Ireland those national rights which the British Government has been asking them to die to win for Belgium. As long as that remains the case, the cause of Irish freedom is safe.

Believing that the British Government has no right in Ireland, never had any right in Ireland, and never can have any right in Ireland, the presence, in any one generation of Irishmen, of even a respectable minority, ready to die to affirm that truth, makes that Government for ever a usurpation and a crime against human progress.

I personally thank God that I have lived to see the day when thousands of Irish men and boys, and hundreds of Irish women and girls, were ready to affirm that truth, and to attest it with their lives if need be. "

James Connolly, May 9th, 1916

"Our  foes are strong and wise and wary; but, strong and wise and wary as they are, they cannot undo the miracles of God who ripens in the hearts of young men the seeds sown by the young men of a former generation. And the seeds sown by the young men of '65 and '67 are coming to their miraculous ripening today. Rulers and Defenders of Realms had need to be wary if they would guard against such processes. Life springs from death; and from the graves of patriot men and women spring living nations. The Defenders of this Realm have worked well in secret and in the open. They think that they have pacified half of us and intimidated the other half. They think that they have foreseen everything, think that they have provided against everything; but the fools, the fools, the fools ! They have left us our Fenian dead, and while Ireland holds these graves, Ireland unfree shall never be at peace."

                               -- Padraig Pearse

I see his blood upon the rose
And in the stars the glory of his eyes,
His body gleams amid eternal snows,
His tears fall from the skies.
I see his face in every flower
The thunder and the singing of the birds
Are but his Voice --- and carven by his power
Rocks are his written words.

- Last Poem written by Joseph Plunkett, that he gave to his wife Grace before his execution on May 4th, 1916.

It was 2 AM and Grace had been lying down for only half an hour when there was a rap on the door. A constable handed her a letter from the governor. Grace Plunkett was now permitted to see her husband.

The word suprised and delighted her.

"Husband".

She whispered it over and over as the car sped through the quiet streets, and as she went through the small entrance gate, into the reception area, and up the steps to cell no. 88.

“Ten minutes, ma’am.”

On entering the jail, she had noticed the sky lightening. No dawn would ever be the same again.

But only ten minutes? And in a small cell with an NCO and several soldiers with fixed bayonets crowded round the door?

The sergeant examined his watch as if to time a race.

The only light was a candle.

Grace picked out a plank for a bed with one blanket, a tin basin with gruel but no spoon.

Joe beckoned her to sit down on the stool and he knelt over her like a penitent confessing. This was to be their only honeymoon. The newly-weds who had so much to say to each other and so little time to say it were tongue-tied.

Perplexed by this meaningless cruelty, the best Grace could do was try and fix every detail in her mind : what he looked like, said, wanted to say but left unsaid, the candlelight reflected in his eyes. She caught a whiff of wood-smoke on his clothes, in his hair.

She had to be brave for his sake. But who understands the human heart ? Would it help him if she cried or make it harder? For tears are words to those in love. Those few precious minutes seemed first like hours and then like only seconds.

The soldiers were sleepy-eyed. Most of the faces were Irish faces. Some were downy, had never shaved; they were younger even than she and Joe. Would they really break up a marriage so recent? Would they kill a dying man, not any dying man but her Joseph who was only twenty-nine years old?

Their uniform provided them with absolution, turned murder into mere killing. They were doing a job, like a corporation employee clearing a drain or chopping up a tree that blocked the road.

Yes, without hate they would do this hateful thing.

--- Grace Plunkett’s last thoughts with Joe Plunkett, shortly before his execution, “Rebels – The Irish Rising of 1916” by Peter De Rosa

Sean Heuston was in in cell 19, (prior to his execution at Kilmainham Jail)--- writing a last farewell to his sister who was a school teacher and a Dominican nun:

My dearest Mary,

Before this note reaches you I shall have fallen as a soldier in the cause of Irish freedom. I write to bid you a last farewell in this world.

If you really love me teach the children in your class the history of their own land, and teach them that the cause of Caitlin Ni Uallachain never dies. Ireland shall be free from the centre to the sea as soon as the people of Ireland believe in the necessity for Ireland's Freedom and are prepared to make the necessary sacrifices to obtain it."

- "Rebels - The Irish Rising of 1916" by Peter De Rosa

Be green upon their graves,
O happy Spring !
For they were young and eager
who are dead !
Of all things that are young,
and quivering
with eager life,
be they remembered.

- James Stephens, Irish Republican Brotherhood