I was raised in a very old fashioned Ireland where women were reared to be lovely.
If it was raining soup, the Irish would go out with forks.
I come from an Irish Catholic family, and hell-raising is part of the DNA.
Being Irish is very much a part of who I am. I take it everywhere with me.
I believe in Christianity as I believe that the sun has risen: not only because I see it, but because by it I see everything else.
You've got to think lucky. If you fall into a mudhole, check your back pocket - you might have caught a fish.
Geographically, Ireland is a medium-sized rural island that is slowly but steadily being consumed by sheep.
I say luck is when an opportunity comes along and you're prepared for it.
I try to be grateful for the abundance of the blessings that I have, for the journey that I'm on and to relish each day as a gift.
You gotta try your luck at least once a day, because you could be going around lucky all day and not even know it.
There is no language like the Irish for soothing and quieting.
Cherish your human connections: your relationships with friends and family.
Being Irish, I always had this love of words.
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?
Above all else, deep in my soul, I'm a tough Irishwoman.
I love everything that's old, - old friends, old times, old manners, old books, old wine.
Love is never defeated, and I could add, the history of Ireland proves it.
To succeed in life, you need three things: a wishbone, a backbone and a funny bone.
Christ beside me, Christ before me, Christ behind me, Christ within me, Christ beneath me, Christ above me.
Every St. Patrick's Day every Irishman goes out to find another Irishman to make a speech to.
Luck is believing you're lucky.
Fond memory brings the light of other days around me.
If you're Irish, it doesn't matter where you go - you'll find family.
Think where man's glory most begins and ends, and say my glory was I had such friends.
Being Irish, he had an abiding sense of tragedy, which sustained him through temporary periods of joy.
We have always found the Irish a bit odd. They refuse to be English.