May the Irish hills caress you. May her lakes and rivers bless you. May the luck of the Irish enfold you. May the blessings of St. Patrick behold you.

I’m a great believer in luck, and I find the harder I work the more I have of it.

Here's to you and here's to me, I pray that friends we'll always be, but if by chance we disagree, the heck with you and here's to me.

There are only two classes of people — the Irish and those who wish they were Irish.

Luck is great, but most of life is hard work.

Whether I drink often or just once in a while; I'm always sure to raise a glass to the dear old Emerald Isle.

Imagine if we were all magical leprechauns, and every wish ever made on a four-leaf clover obliged us to help others obtain their wishes. Now imagine if people simply lived like this were true.

When anyone asks me about the Irish character, I say look at the trees. Maimed, stark and misshapen, but ferociously tenacious.

The Irish celebrate St. Patrick’s Day in gratitude for the service which he did them in bringing to the Irish their most priceless possession—the gift of faith.

Don't throw away luck on little stuff. Save it up.

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Ireland has always been the home of the dreamer, the poet and the storyteller.

Whether it's St. Patrick's Day or not, everyone has a little luck o' the Irish in them.

May you have all the happiness and luck that life can hold — and at the end of your rainbows may you find a pot of gold.

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May you always walk in sunshine. May you never want for more. May Irish angels rest their wings beside your nursery door.

"You've got to think lucky. If you fall into a mudhole, check your back pocket — you might have caught a fish.

Slàinte!

Every St. Patrick’s Day every Irishman goes out to find another Irishman to make a speech to.

I will tell you, my body immediately responds to being in Ireland because every single cell in my body says yes.

Even when they have nothing, the Irish emit a kind of happiness, a joy.

If you work, if you wait, you will find the place where the four-leaf clovers grow.

There are good ships and there are wood ships, the ships that sail the sea. But the best ships are friendships, and may they ever be.

Having you for a friend means that I’ve been granted the luck O’ the Irish.

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.

Ireland, once you live there, you're seduced by it.

Being Irish, he had an abiding sense of tragedy, which sustained him through temporary periods of joy.

For you can’t hear Irish tunes without knowing you’re Irish, and wanting to pound that fact into the floor.

"May your best day of your past be the worst day of your future."

That’s right, there’s free beer in Irish paradise. Everyone’s jealous.

"You can take a man of Ireland, but you can't take out the Irishness of the man."

I'm Irish! When I feel well I feel better than anyone, when I am in pain I yell at the top of my lungs, and when I am dead I shall be deader than anybody.

“May your blessings outnumber the shamrocks that grow. And may trouble avoid you wherever you go."

St. Paddy’s Day is our celebration day for Ireland’s favorite saint who both saved us from the snakes, and gave us our own day to celebrate our Irish heritage.

The best luck of all is the luck you make for yourself.

St. Patrick's Day is an enchanted time — a day to begin transforming winter's dreams into summer's magic.

Being Irish is very much a part of who I am. I take it everywhere with me.

"May the roof above us never fall in. And may the friends fathered below it never fall out."

Ireland is a land of poets and legends, of dreamers and rebels.

"A wish that every day for you will be happy from the start and may you always have good luck and a song within your heart."

We may have bad weather in Ireland, but the sun shines in the hearts of the people and that keeps us all warm.

For the whole world is Irish on the Seventeenth o' March!

The amount of good luck coming your way depends on your willingness to act.

For each petal on the shamrock, this brings a wish your way: Good health, good luck, and happiness for today and every day.

Love is never defeated, and I could add, the history of Ireland proves it.

The heart of an Irishman is nothing but his imagination.

The list of Irish saints is past counting; but in it all no other figure is so human, friendly, and lovable as St. Patrick.

May the road rise up to meet you. May the wind be always at your back.

A good friend is like a four-leaf clover, hard to find and lucky to have.

"I have noticed that timing and luck sometimes line up in such a way that you can catch a break."

Be still and know that I am.

Be still and know.

Be still.Be.

You're not in America now, you're in Ireland. So have a drink and shut up.

I'm not going to a distant world. I'm of Ireland, and I'll stay in Ireland until I die!

Luck is believing you're lucky.

Never iron a four-leaf clover, because you don't want to press your luck.

Yeah, it's St. Paddy's Day. Everyone's Irish tonight.

May your pockets be heavy and your heart be light, may good luck pursue you each morning and night.

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?

I wish that I could stop feeling that I want to be an Irish girl in Ireland.

If you’re Irish, it doesn’t matter where you go — you’ll find family.

There is no language like the Irish for soothing and quieting.