"[Teacher is putting pieces of newspaper on the boys tongues] Teacher: And what do I have here, Clohessy? Clohessy: Pieces of the Limerick Leader, sir! Teacher: No! The body and blood of Christ. If you don't pay anymore attention, it'll be the last rites. You'll be getting, not your holy communion. Irish is the language of Patriots. And English of traitors and informers. But Latin, ah boys, Latin. That the holy martyrs spoke before expiring in the foaming mouths of ravenous lions. Yes, it's Latin that gains the entrance to heaven itself. But there are boys in this class, who will never know sanctifying grace. And why? Because of greed. Those greedy little blackguards are talking even now, about the money they'll get from the collection. They'll go from house to house in their little suits like beggars. And will they take any of that money and send it to the the poor black babies in Africa as they should? Oh, no. It's off to the cinema the first communion boys will go, to wallow in the disgusting filth spewed across the world by the devil's henchman... in Hollywood. Isn't that right McCourt? McCourt: 'tis sir. Teacher: Don't speak you! Can't you see that God is on your tongue? Where is God, boys? Class: On his tongue, sir."