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.

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.

Why should we honour those that die upon the field of battle? A man may show as reckless a courage in entering into the abyss of himself.

We can only begin to live when we conceive life as Tragedy.

Locke sank into a swoon; The Garden died; God took the spinning-jenny Out of his side.

Somewhere beyond the curtain Of distorting days Lives that lonely thing That shone before these eyes Targeted, trod like Spring.

Land of Heart's Desire Where beauty has no ebb, decay no flood, But joy is wisdom, time an endless song.