The trouble with the Irish question always has been that it was an English question.
The life in which nothing happens goes the fastest, because it has no landmarks.
The kind need kindness most of all.
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.
January has only one thing to be said for it: it is followed by February. Nothing so well becomes its passing.