The trouble with the Irish question always has been that it was an English question.

It's a strange thing now how people will know they're dying themselves when no one else could suspect anything wrong at all with them.

O, the red rose may be fair, And the lily statelier; But my shamrock, one in three Takes the very heart of me!

Often our bad moments are self-propelled ... And the drama is almost exclusively within our heads and hearts.

the way with Ireland is that no sooner do you get away from her than the golden mists begin to close about her, and she lies, an Island of the Blest, something enchanted in our dreams. When you come back you may think you are disillusioned, but you know well that the fairy mists will begin to gather about her once more.

Drawbacks are good when you are on holiday. If the holiday were too good you might not want to go home again.

The Irish always jest even though they jest with tears.