There's no bad publicity except an obituary.
No man can discover his own talents.
The English and Americans dislike only some Irish--the same Irish that the Irish themselves detest, Irish writers--the ones that think.
What the hell difference does it make, left or right? There were good men lost on both sides.
Nothing hurts more than the friendly letter that one never got around to writing.
If it was raining soup, the Irish would go out with forks.