Conway Mill Trust

Sigmund Freud, talking about the Irish, “This is one race of people for whom psychoanalysis is of no use whatsoever.”

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“Life is much too important a thing ever to talk seriously about it.”
“The young are always ready to give those who are older than themselves the full benefit of their inexperience.”
“A man cannot be too careful in the choice of his enemies.”

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Epitath on an Irish immigrant’s gravesite in a Virginia City graveyard where gold miners are buried: “I came for the love of gold and found that I had left it behind in Ireland.”

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“Being Irish, I have an abiding sense of tragedy which sustains me through temporary periods of joy.”  (W. B. Yeats)

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All women become like their mothers. That is their tragedy. No man does.
This is his.     Oscar Wilde
He is scant of news that speaks ill of his mother.

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In her eyes are the blue lakes of Killarney,
On her cheeks the pink rose of Kildare,
On her lips just a wee bit of blarney,
And the sheen of the Shannon’s in her hair.
She’s as sweet as the day
She stole Dad’s heart away
That sweet Irish mother of mine.

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