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Mere words do not feed the friars.

Like the goodness of the five loaves and two fishes, Which God divided among the five thousand men, May the blessing of the King who so divided Be upon our share of this common meal.

May your troubles be less And your blessings be more. And nothing but happiness Come through your door.

The old pipe gives the sweetest smoke.

Your feet will bring you where your heart is.

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Every tide has an ebb save the tide of graces.

May friendship, like wine, improve as time advances. And may we always have old wine, old friends, and young cares.

Ireland, sir, for good or evil, No other place under Heaven. And no man can touch its sod Or breathe its air without becoming Better or worse.

May you look back fifty years from now and agree that today was the worst day of your married life.

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