If We Still Advise We Shall Never

They Best Pass Over The World Who Trip Over It Quickly; For It Is But A Bog. If We Stop, We Sink.

Ye May Have A Greater Prince, But Ye Shall Never Have A More Loving Prince.

When We Hang On To Resentments, We Poison Ourselves. As Compulsive Overeaters, We Cannot Afford Resentment, Since It Exacerbates Our Disease.

My Mortal Foe Can No Ways Wish Me A Greater Harm Than England's Hate; Neither Should Death Be Less Welcome Unto Me Than Such A Mishap Betide Me.

Hang Irish Harpers Wherever Found.