Oxford is Oxford: not a mere receptacle for youth, like Cambridge. Perhaps it wants its inmates to love it rather than to love one another.

One must be fond of people and trust them if one is not to make a mess of life.

For our vanity is such that we hold our own characters immutable, and we are slow to acknowledge that they have changed, even for the better.

The people I admire most are those who are sensitive and want to create something or discover something, and do not see life in terms of power.

The English countryside, its growth and its destruction, is a genuine and tragic theme.

When I think of what life is, and how seldom love is answered by love; it is one of the moments for which the world was made.

I cannot help thinking that there is something to admire in everyone, even if you do not approve of them.