Circumstances are the rulers of the weak; they are but the instruments of the wise.
But all husbands are geese, though our pride it may shock, From the first 'twas ordained so by Nature I fear; Ould Adam himself was the first of the flock, And Eve, with her apple sauce, cooked him, my dear
When once the itch of literature comes over a man, nothing can cure it but the scratching of a pen. But if you have not a pen, I suppose you must scratch any way you can.
Come live in my heart and pay no rent
My advice to you concerning applause is this: enjoy it but never quite believe it.
Reproof on her lip, but a smile in her eye
Said will be a little ahead, but done should follow at his heel.
Sure the shovel and tongs / To each other belongs.
That 's eight times to-day that you 've kissed me before. Then here goes another, says he, to make sure, For there 's luck in odd numbers, says Rory O'More.
As she sat in the low-backed car The man at the turn-pike bar Never asked for the toll But just rubbed his auld poll And looked after the low-backed car.
Sure my love is all crost Like a bud in the frost And there's no use at all in my going to bed, For 't is dhrames and not slape that comes into my head!
And with my advice, faith I wish you'd take me.