When any great design thou dost intend, Think on the means, the manner, and the end.

Though with those streams he no resemblance hold, Whose foam is amber and their gravel gold; His genuine and less guilty wealth t' explore, Search not his bottom, but survey his shore.

Youth, what man's age is like to be, doth show; We may our ends by our beginnings know.

Books should to one of these fours ends conduce, for wisdom, piety, delight, or use.

Such is our pride, our folly, or our fate, That few, but such as cannot write, translate.

It is no exaggeration to say that Israeli policy in the occupied territories is not simply a matter of foreign policy - it is a matter for British domestic security policy too.

Poetry is of so subtle a spirit, that in the pouring out of one language into another it will evaporate.