When I warned them [the French] that Britain would fight on alone whatever they did, their generals told their Prime Minister and his divided Cabinet, In three weeks England will have her neck wrung like a chicken. Some chicken! Some neck!

The only traditions of the Royal Navy are rum, sodomy and the lash.

I cannot forecast to you the action of Russia. It is a riddle wrapped in a mystery inside an enigma: but perhaps there is a key. That key is Russian national interest.

It is with deep grief I watch the clattering down of the British Empire with all its glories and all the services it has rendered to mankind.

Do you know why the nose of the bull dog is sloped backwards? So it can keep on breathing without ever letting go.

The cemetery is full of indispensable people.

It is not enough that we do our best; sometimes we must do what is required.