Welcome to the Tuesday Coffee Hour here on Street Prophets. This is an open thread where we can hang out and talk about what’s going on in our worlds. I thought we might start today’s discussion by looking at some more Irish proverbs.
“God made the Italians for their beauty. The French for fine food. The Swedes for intelligence. The Jews for religion. And on and on until He looked at what He had created and said, “This is all very fine but no one is having fun. I guess I’ll have to make me an Irishman.”
If you’re lucky to be Irish, you’re lucky enough.
In heaven there is no beer. That’s why we drink ours here.
In order to find his equal, an Irishman is forced to talk to God.
Irish Alzheimer’s: you forget everything except the grudges.
It’s not that the Irish are cynical. It’s simply that they have a wonderful lack of respect for everything and everybody.
May misfortune follow you the rest of your life, but never catch up.
A kind word never broke anyone’s mouth.
A toast to your coffin. May it be made of 100 year old oak. And may we plant the tree together, tomorrow.
An Englishman thinks seated; a Frenchman, standing; an American, pacing; an Irishman, afterward.
An Irishman is never drunk as long as he can hold onto one blade of grass to keep him from falling off the earth.
This is an open thread. Feel free to share a proverb, or whatever else is on your mind.