They that have power to hurt, and will do none,
That do not do the thing they most do show,
Who, moving others, are themselves as stone,
Unmoved, cold, and to temptation slow;
They rightly do inherit heaven's graces,
And husband nature's riches from expense;
They are the lords and owners of their faces,
Others, but stewards of their excellence.
The summer's flower is to the summer sweet,
Though to itself, it only live and die,
But if that flower with base infection meet,
The basest weed outbraves his dignity:
For sweetest things turn sourest by their deeds;
Lilies that fester, smell far worse than weeds.

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The Forsyte Saga

Bart: Election next month. Your Labour friends can start lying Michael.
Michael: Do you think they'll get in?
Bart: Not this time, Bonar Law's got it all tied up. Wouldn't be a bad thing if they did: taste of office might help them grow up .... Suppose they did get in? What could they do? Cure unemployment?
Michael: They might, Bart.
Bart: I doubt it, and what else? Would they abolish the cinema? teach English women to cook? make us grow our own food? will they hang all dabblers in poison gas? destroy all bombing aeroplanes and submarines?
Michael: They could try.
Bart: And what about the possesive principle that you disapprove of? Would they abolish that? No, not on your life m'boy. No! All party politics are top dressing. We're ruled by inventors and by human nature.
Michael: Oh-hoo you have got it bad guv'ner.
Bart: But seriously, do you find reality in politics now?
Michael: Oh-hoo, do you find reality in anything now?
Bart: Income Tax, perhaps.
Michael: Such simple faith, it touches me.
Bart: Everything fine and splendid is off: no big schemes; no great principles; no far-sighted views; no great religion; no great art. Just a lot of little men in little hats.

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Fantasy Dinner Party Guests

William Shakespeare: (Come on, with this domain name, did you think he wouldn't be there?). A moment in his presence would be divine. I'd love to listen to his tales of The Globe and Elizabethan society.
Livia Drusilla: Wife of the Roman Emperor Augustus, she has been popularised as a murderess. It would be interesting to find out if she really was a skilled poisoner, and as beautiful as was claimed.
Germaine Greer: Feminist literary critic. Outspoken and always controversial, she'd ensure the evening went with an intellectually stimulating bang.
Fred Astaire: So the evening could end with the last Waltz, impeccably danced.

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