What The Hell Difference Does It Make,

Critics Are Like Eunuchs In A Harem; They Know How It's Done, They've Seen It Done Every Day, But They're Unable To Do It Themselves.

They Took Away Our Land, Our Language, And Our Religion; But They Could Never Harness Our Tongues.

If It Was Raining Soup, The Irish Would Go Out With Forks.

Ah, Bless You, Sister, May All Your Sons Be Bishops.

There Is No Human Situation So Miserable That It Cannot Be Made Worse By The Presence Of A Policeman.