The life in which nothing happens goes the fastest, because it has no landmarks.

January has only one thing to be said for it: it is followed by February. Nothing so well becomes its passing.

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!

There is an Irish way of paying compliments as though they were irresistible truths which makes what would otherwise be an impertinence delightful.

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

The life in which nothing happens goes the fastest, because it has no landmarks.