Irish people have a trick of over-statement, at which one ceases to wince as one grows older.

To be a saint does not exclude fine dresses nor a beautiful house.

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

Religion dies hard in the Irish.

I have often heard it said that the Irish are too ready to forgive. It is a noble failing.

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

I have always believed that hair is a very sure index of character.