The English woman is so refined She has no bosom and no behind.
England has two books, the Bible and Shakespeare. England made Shakespeare,but the Bible made England.
England is always remaking herself, her cliffs eroding, her sandbanks drifting, springs bubbling up in dead ground. They regroup themselves while we sleep, the landscapes through which we move, and ev...
The British love permanence more than they love beauty.
They must live outside class, without relations or money; they must work and stick to each other till death. But England belonged to them. That, besides companionship, was their reward. Her air and sk...
There was a pleasant party of barge people round the fire. You might not have thought it pleasant, but they did; for they were all friends or acquaintances, and they liked the same sort of things, and...
For he might have been a Rooshian A French or Turk or Proosian Or perhaps Italian. But in spite of all temptations To belong to other nations He remains an Englishman.
If I should die think only this of me: That there's some corner of a foreign field That is forever England.
That typically English characteristic for which there is no English name -esprit de corps.
No one can be as calculatedly rude as the British which amazes Americans who do not understand studied insult and can only offer abuse as a substitute.
No one is better at not beating America than England.
We are indeed a nation of shopkeepers.
The British are just as keen to make money as the Americans but they prefer hypocrisy to a blatantly commercial attitude.
England is the paradise of individuality eccentricity heresy anomalies hobbies and humours.
In 1952, I had gone to England on a literary pilgrimage, but what I also saw, even at that distance from the blitz, were bombed-out ruins and an enervated society, while the continent was still, psych...
Froth at the top dregs at bottom but the middle excellent.
Let us therefore brace ourselves to our duties and so -bear ourselves that if the British Empire and its Commonwealth last for a thousand years men will still say "This was their finest hour."
Whatever the rest of the world thinks of the English gentleman the English lady regards him apprehensively as something between God and a goat and equally formidable on both scores.
There will always be an England While there's a country lane Wherever there's a cottage small Beside a field of grain.
One matter Englishmen don't think in the least funny is their happy consciousness of possessing a deep sense of humour.