Quotes
BrainyQuote: Famous Quotes and Quotations
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"I am only one, but I am one. I cannot do everything,
but I can do something. And because I cannot do
everything, I will not refuse to do the something that
I can do. What I can do, I should do. And what I
should do, by the grace of God, I will do."  
Edward Everett Hale
"Beir beannact om croí go tir na hEireann
Ban cnoic Eireann og
Con a marionn na Iolrai Ir is Eibhear
Ban Cnoic Eireann og."

Translated, this means
"Bring a blessing from my heart to Ireland
To the fair hills of Ireland
Where the chiefs Ir and Eibhear dwell
Fair hills of Ireland"
In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.
We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie,

In Flanders fields.
Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.
May those who love us love us,
And those who don't love us,
May God turn their hearts,
And if He doesn't turn their hearts,
May He turn their ankles,
So we'll know them by their limping.
An Irish Blessing
AD MELIORA
Towards Better Things
Lives of great men all remind us,
We can make our lives sublime,
And departing,
And leave behind us,
Footprints on the sand of time.
- Henry W. Longfellow
Genealogy is my hobby...
I collect ancestors.
AN IRISH TOAST

"SLAINTE 'GUS SAOL AGAT
TALAMH GAN CHIOS AGAT
BEAN AR DO MHIAN AGAT
LEANBH GACH BLIAIN AGAT
SAOL FADA AGUS BAS IN EIRINN."

TRANSLATION:

"HEALTH AND LONG LIFE TO YOU
LAND WITHOUT RENT TO YOU
THE WOMAN OF YOUR CHOICE TO YOU
A CHILD EVERY YEAR TO YOU
A LONG LIFE, AND MAY YOUR BONES REST
IN IRELAND."
To Each His Own
There's a dear little plant
that grows in Ireland.
'Twas Saint Patrick himself
sure that set it.
And the sun on his labor
with pleasure did smile.
And a tear from his eyes
oft-times wet it.
It grows through the bog ...
Through the brake, and
through the mireland.
And it's called the dear little
Shamrock of Ireland.
(Irish Blessing)
Céad Míle Fáilte
'One Hundred Thousand Welcomes'
Leprechauns, castles,
good luck and laughter
Lullabies, dreams,
and love ever after.
Poems and songs
with pipes and drums
A thousand welcomes
when anyone comes.
That's the Irish for you!
May you always have...
Walls for the wind
A roof for the rain
Tea beside the fire
Laughter to cheer you
Those you love near you
And all your heart might desire.
I'm gonna build a rainbow
from my heart to your heart.
I'm gonna build rainbow
I know just where to start.
I'll pile it high with kisses
And paint it with my dreams.
And when it's done,
I'll tell you Bunn
Exactly what it means...
It means that I have loved you.
Long before you were born
It means that I will love you.
Long after I am gone,
It means that I am with you,
Although we're far apart.
It means, you know
I love you so,
From my heart to your heart...
by Ellen Ann Kreiter Neumann 2005
Long ago and far away,
Perhaps in  Ireland one fine day
Hungary,  Germany, the  USA
Someone  in their special way
Helped to shape who you are today.

For you have gained from where they lived
And what they did and  why
Maybe you have them to thank
For that twinkle in your eye

Of course you do not know them
They aren't here today
But remember that they helped  you
Once along your way.

They gave you genes of DNA
And eyes of blue or brown or  gray
Talents with which you work and play
And even ways in  which you pray

So lets say thanks for all who came
Upon this earth to help us share
This time in which we live  and love
Let’s let them know we care.

A cheer from us to all of them
Who, because they came before
Have  made it possible for us now here
To love forever more.

Judy O'Hare McKeon
May you always have work
for your hands to do
May your pockets
hold always a coin or two.
May the sun shine
bright on your windowpane.
May the rainbow be certain
to follow the rain.
May the hand of a friend
always be near you.
And may God fill your heart
with gladness to cheer you.
May the road rise up to meet you
May the wind be always at your back
May the sun shine warm on your face
And the rain fall soft upon your fields
And until we meet again,
May God hold you in the palm of his hand
Ní bheidh a leithéidí arís ann.

We shall not look upon their like again.
    Blessings on thee, little man,
     Barefoot boy, with cheek of tan;
     With thy turned-up pantaloons,
     And thy merry whistled tunes;
     With thy red lip, redder still
     Kissed by strawberries on the hill;
     With the sunshine on thy face,
     Through thy torn brim's jaunty grace!
     From my heart I give thee joy;
     I was once a barefoot boy.
    Prince thou art--the grown-up man
     Only is republican.
     Let the million-dollared ride!
     Barefoot, trudging at his side,
     Thou hast more than he can buy,
     In the reach of ear and eye:
     Outward sunshine, inward joy.
     Blessings on thee, barefoot boy!
    O! for boyhood's painless play,
     Sleep that wakes in laughing day,
     Health that mocks the doctor's rules,
     Knowledge never learned of schools:
     Of the wild bee's morning chase,
     Of the wild flower's time and place,
     Flight of fowl, and habitude
     Of the tenants of the wood;
     How the tortoise bears his shell,
    How the woodchuck digs his cell,
     And the ground-mole sinks his well;
     How the robin feeds her young,
     How the oriole's nest is hung;
     Where the whitest lilies blow,
     Where the freshest berries grow,
     Where the ground-nut trails its vine,
     Where the wood grape's clusters shine;
     Of the black wasp's cunning way,
     Mason of his walls of clay,
     And the architectural plans
     Of gray hornet artisans!
     For, eschewing books and tasks,
     Nature answers all he asks;
     Hand in hand with her he walks,
     Face to face with her he talks
     Part and parcel of her joy.
     Blessings on thee, barefoot boy!
    O for boyhood's time of June,
     Crowding years in one brief moon,
     When all things I heard or saw,
     Me, their master, waited for!
     I was rich in flowers and trees,
     Humming-birds and honey-bees;
     For my sport the squirrel played,
     Plied the snouted mole his spade;
     For my taste the blackberry cone
     Purpled over hedge and stone;
     Laughed the brook for my delight,
     Through the day and through the night;
     Whispering at the garden wall,
     Talked with me from fall to fall;
    Mine the sand-rimmed pickerel pond,
     Mine the walnut slopes beyond,
     Mine, on bending orchard trees,
     Apples of Hesperides!
     Still, as my horizon grew,
     Larger grew my riches too,
     All the world I saw or knew
     Seemed a complex Chinese toy,
     Fashioned for a barefoot boy!
    O! for festal dainties spread,
     Like my bowl of milk and bread,
     Pewter spoon and bowl of wood,
     On the door-stone, gray and rude!
     O'er me, like a regal tent,
     Cloudy-ribbed, the sunset bent:
     Purple-curtained, fringed with gold,
     Looped in many a wind-swung fold;
     While, for music, came the play
     Of the pied frogs' orchestra;
     And, to light the noisy choir,
     Lit the fly his lamp of fire.
     I was monarch; pomp and joy
     Waited on the barefoot boy.
    Cheerily then, my little man!
     Live and laugh as boyhood can;
     Though the flinty slopes be hard,
     Stubble-speared the new-mown sward,
     Every morn shall lead thee through
     Fresh baptisms of the dew;
     Every evening from thy feet
     Shall the cool wind kiss the heat;
    All too soon those feet must hide
     In the prison-cells of pride,
     Lose the freedom of the sod,
     Like a colt's for work be shod,
     Made to tread the mills of toil,
     Up and down in ceaseless moil:
     Happy if their track be found
     Never on forbidden ground;
     Happy if they sink not in
     Quick and treacherous sands of sin.
     Ah! that thou couldst know thy joy,
     Ere it passes, barefoot boy!
    JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER.
Deep peace of the running waves to you,
Deep peace of the flowing air to you,
Deep peace of the quiet earth to you,
Deep peace of the shining stars to you,
Deep peace of the shades of night to you,
Moon and stars always giving light to you.
- Gaelic blessing
May we live in peace
without weeping.

May our joy outline the lives
we touch without ceasing.

And may our love fill the world,
angel wings tenderly beating.