“Give me six men and true, and I will get policies through.”

Feminists hate me, don’t they? And I don’t blame them. For I hate feminism. It is poison.

Well, there’s a lot to react against!

It used to be about trying to do something. Now it’s about trying to be someone.

A week is a long time in politics.

Socialists are happy until they run out of other people’s money.

It pays to know the enemy – not least because at some time you may have the opportunity to turn him into a friend.

Being powerful is like being a lady. If you have to tell people you are, you aren’t.

It’s a funny old world.

I usually make up my mind about a man in ten seconds, and I very rarely change it.

Being Prime Minister is a lonely job. In a sense, it ought to be: you cannot lead from the crowd.

Freedom will destroy itself if it is not exercised within some sort of moral framework, somebody of shared beliefs, some spiritual heritage transmitted through the Church, the family, and the school.

I wasn’t lucky, I deserved it.

Of course, it’s the same old story. Truth usually is the same old story.

Don’t follow the crowd, let the crowd follow you.

If you can’t afford it, you can’t have it.

The facts of life are conservative.

But I must at the very beginning lay down this principle – friendship can only exist between good men.

A man may hate cruelty and lies, but if he’s never given an opportunity to show what he’s made of, no one will remember him when he dies.

Nothing that is really good and admirable is granted by the gods to men without some effort and application.

I love man as my fellow; but his scepter, real, or usurped, extends not to me, unless the reason of an individual demands my homage; and even then the submission is to reason, and not to man.

When you stubbornly give one man a chance, you arbitrarily deny it to another one.

Men, the enemy troops you can see are all that stands between us and the place we have for so long been determined to reach. We must find a way to eat them alive!

Without man and his potential for moral progress, the whole of reality would be a mere wilderness, a thing in vain, and have no final purpose.

Happy would it be for women, if they were only flattered by the men who loved them; I mean, who love the individual, not the sex.