That man's the true Conservative who lops the moldered branch away.

Sweet is true love that is given in vain, and sweet is death that takes away pain.

We are self-uncertain creatures, and we may Yea, even when we know not, mix our spites And private hates with our defence of Heaven.

I came in haste with cursing breath, And heart of hardest steel; But when I saw thee cold in death, I felt as man should feel. For when I look upon that face, That cold, unheeding, frigid brown, Where neither rage nor fear has place, By Heaven! I cannot hate thee now!

Gorgonised me from head to foot With a stony British stare.

Queen rose of the rosebud garden of girls.

Better not be at all than not be noble.