Every Irishman, The Saying Goes, Has A

Love, It Has Been Said, Flows Downward. The Love Of Parents For Their Children Has Always Been Far More Powerful Than That Of Children For Their Parents; And Who Among The Sons Of Men Ever Loved God With A Thousandth Part Of The Love Which God Has Manifested To Us?

What A Person Praises Is Perhaps A Surer Standard, Even Than What He Condemns, Of His Own Character, Information And Abilities.

Pity Is Like Eating Mustard Without Beef.

Better Far Off To Leave Half The Ruins And Nine-tenths Of The Churches Unseen And To See Well The Rest; To See Them Not Once, But Again And Often Again; To Watch Them, To Learn Them, To Live With Them, To Love Them, Till They Have Become A Part Of Life And Life's Recollections.

Every Irishman, The Saying Goes, Has A Potato In His Head.