I believe... that our memories are part of one great memory, the memory of Nature herself.

All hatred driven hence, The soul recovers radical innocence And learns at last that it is self-delighting, Self-appeasing, self-affrighting, And that its own sweet will is Heaven's will

Any fool can fight a winning battle, but it needs character to fight a losing one, and that should inspire us; which reminds me that I dreamed the other night that I was being hanged, but was the life and soul of the party.

Everything that man esteems Endures a moment or a day. Love's pleasure drives his love away, The painter's brush consumes his dreams.

And God stands winding His lonely horn, And time and the world are ever in flight.

I wonder anybody does anything at Oxford but dream and remember

Test every work of intellect or faith and everything that your own hands have wrought.