And they that rule in England, in stately conclaves met, alas, alas for England they have no graves as yet.

St George he was for England, / And before he killed the dragon / He drank a pint of English ale / Out of an English flagon.

The men that worked for England / They have their graves at home.

Smile at us, pay us, pass us; but do not quite forget. / For we are the people of England, that never have spoken yet.

Some men never feel small, but these are the few men who are.

All architecture is great architecture after sunset; perhaps architecture is really a nocturnal art, like the art of fireworks.