Stiff Upper Lip

One who has a stiff upper lip displays fortitude in the face of adversity, or exercises great self-restraint in the expression of emotion. The phrase is most commonly heard as part of the idiom "keep a stiff upper lip", and has traditionally been used to describe an attribute of British people (particularly upper-middle and upper class), who are sometimes perceived by other cultures as being unemotional. A sign of weakness is trembling of the upper lip, hence the saying keep a stiff upper lip. When a person's upper lip begins to tremble, it is one of the first signs that the person is scared or experiencing deep emotion. Poems that feature a memorable evocation of Victorian stoicism and a stiff upper lip include Rudyard Kipling's "If—" and W. E. Henley's "Invictus". The phrase became symbolic of the British people, and particularly of those who were products of the English public school system, during the Victorian era. The idiom seems however of American origin; its earliest known example is in a publication called the Massachusetts Spy for 14 June 1815: "I kept a stiff upper lip, and bought license to sell my goods."

Famous quotes containing the words stiff, upper and/or lip:

    Sir Charles: Aren’t you drinking?
    Princess Dala: I don’t drink.
    Sir Charles: Never?
    Princess Dala: I’m quite content with reality, I have no need for escape.
    Sir Charles: Well, I enjoy reality as much as the next man, it’s just in my case, fortunately, reality includes a good stiff belt every now and then.
    Blake Edwards (b. 1922)

    But that beginning was wiped out in fear
    The day I swung suspended with the grapes,
    And was come after like Eurydice
    And brought down safely from the upper regions;
    And the life I live now’s an extra life
    I can waste as I please on whom I please.
    Robert Frost (1874–1963)

    And, indeed, is there not something holy about a great kitchen?... The scoured gleam of row upon row of metal vessels dangling from hooks or reposing on their shelves till needed with the air of so many chalices waiting for the celebration of the sacrament of food. And the range like an altar, yes, before which my mother bowed in perpetual homage, a fringe of sweat upon her upper lip and the fire glowing in her cheeks.
    Angela Carter (1940–1992)