Who mocks at music mocks at love.
The mystical life is at the centre of all that I do and all that I think and all that I write.
I am of a healthy long lived race, and our minds improve with age.
The unpurged images of day recede; The Emperor's drunken soldiery are abed; Night resonance recedes, night-walkers' song After great cathedral gong.
Everything that's lovely is But a brief, dreamy kind of delight.
I wonder anybody does anything at Oxford but dream and remember, the place is so beautiful. One almost expects the people to sing instead of speaking. It is all like an opera.