My dominant mood these days is an end within a very few months after the submarines are knocked out.

Send over, therefore, 1,000 improvised destroyers the next two months, and I'll promise peace by Christmas.

Otherwise I can make no promises.
That's all that Lord Grey and I know, and surely we are two wise men.

What, therefore, is the use in writing any more about this?
The chief necessity that grows upon me is that all the facts must be brought out that show the kinship in blood and ideals of the two great English-speaking nations.

We were actually coming to believe ourselves that we were part German and Slovene and Pole and What-not, instead of essentially being Scotch and English.