I'm convinced there's a small room in the attic of the Foreign Office where future diplomats are taught to stammer.
I don't mind foreigners. God save the queen!" he squeaked and ran.
[The pamphlet] was very patriotic. That is, it talked about killing foreigners.
Care keeps his watch in every old man's eye, And where care lodges, sleep will never lie; But where unbruised youth with unstuff'd brain Doth couch his limbs, there golden sleep doth reign.
Life is a foreign language; all men mispronounce it.
When I see somebody 'suffering for their art', it%uFFFDs usually a case of them not knowing where that red line is, not knowing where the sovereignty lies.
Not forever does the bulbul sing In balmy shades of bowers, Not forever lasts the spring Nor ever blossom the flowers. Not forever reigneth joy, Sets the sun on days of bliss, Friendships not forever last, They know not life, who know not this.
This is the devilish thing about foreign affairs: they are foreign and will not always conform to our whim.
There's the one thing no nation can ever accuse us of and that is secret diplomacy. Our foreign are an open book, generally a check book.