It was my first meeting with a philosophy that confirmed my vague speculations and seemed at once logical and boundless.

I wonder anybody does anything at Oxford but dream and remember

Nor dread nor hope attend a dying animal; a man awaits his end dreading and hoping all.

Everything that's lovely is But a brief, dreamy kind of delight.

A man in his own secret meditation / Is lost amid the labyrinth that he has made / In art or politics.

I am still of opinion that only two topics can be of the least interest to a serious and studious mood - sex and the dead.

There is only one romance the Soul's.