There's a dear little plant that grows in our Isle Twas St . Patrick himself, sure, that set it; And the sun of his labour with pleasure did smile, And with dew from his eye often wet it. It grows through the bog, through the brake, through the Mireland, and they call it the dear little shamrock of Ireland.
'Hope guides me. It is what gets me through the day, and especially the night.' -- A Knight's Tale "I talk to you as I talk to my own soul...and, Sassenach,” he whispered, “your face is my heart.” -- Jamie Fraser, "Dragonfly In Amber" by Diana Gabaldon @Dremnghrt on Twitter, Dreamnghrt on tumblr - come say Hi!