An idealist is one who, on noticing that a rose smells better than a cabbage, concludes that it makes a better soup.

Corned beef and cabbage and leprechaun men.Colorful rainbows hide gold at their end.Shamrocks and clovers with three leaves plus one.Dress up in green—add a top hat for fun.Steal a quick kiss from the lasses in red.A tin whistle tune off the top of my head.Friends, raise a goblet and offer this to

I remember a time when a cabbage could sell itself by being a cabbage. Nowadays it’s no good being a cabbage – unless you have an agent and pay him a commission. Nothing is free anymore to sell itself or give itself away. These days, Countess, every cabbage has its pimp.