This is our fate: eight hundred years’ disaster, crazily tangled like the Book of Kells: the dream’s distortion and the land’s division, the midnight raiders and the prison cells.
John Hewitt

The quiet Irishman is about as harmless as a powder magazine built over a match factory.
James Dunne

Who is a friend but someone to toast,
Someone to gibe, someone to roast.
My friends are the best friends
Loyal, willing and able.
Now let’s get to drinking!
Glasses off the table!
Irish toast

What is but age? Something to count?
Some people fight it as if climbing the mount.
I choose life with dignity and grace
And offer a drink to all in this place!
Irish toast

To warm words on a cold day.
Irish toast

Here’s to women of the Irish shore;
I love but one, I love not more.
But since she’s not here to drink her part,
I’ll drink her share with all my heart.
Irish toast

Here’s to those who wish us well,
as for the rest, they can go to Hell!
Irish toast

Here’s to the women that I’ve loved and all the ones I’ve kissed.
As for regrets, I just have one; that’s all the ones I’ve missed.
Oh, womens’ faults are many, us men have only two:
Every single thing we say, and everything we do.
Irish toast

Here’s to the four hinges of society.
May you fight, steal, lie and drink.
When you fight, may you fight for your country.
When you steal, may you steal away from bad company.
When you lie, may you lie at the side of your sweetheart.
And when you drink, may you drink with me.
Irish toast

Here’s to temperance supper, with water in glasses tall, and coffee and tea to end with — and me not there at all!
Irish toast