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Every St. Patrick’s Day every Irishman goes out to find another Irishman to make a speech to.
Ireland sober is Ireland stiff.
That’s what the holidays are for – for one person to tell the stories and another to dispute them. Isn’t that the Irish way?
There is no language like the Irish for soothing and quieting.
A lot of Irish people perform. They perform in drawing rooms. They sing songs and they play piano.
Being Irish, he had an abiding sense of tragedy, which sustained him through temporary periods of joy.
If it was raining soup, the Irish would go out with forks.
Being Irish is very much a part of who I am. I take it everywhere with me.
Geographically, Ireland is a medium-sized rural island that is slowly but steadily being consumed by sheep.
Love is never defeated, and I could add, the history of Ireland proves it.