An Englishman's Never So Natural As When

We Work In The Dark - We Do What We Can - We Give What We Have. Our Doubt Is Our Passion, And Our Passion Is Our Task. The Rest Is The Madness Of Art.

The Girl Had A Certain Nobleness Of Imagination, Which Rendered Her A Good Many Services And Played Her A Great Many Tricks. She Spent Half Her Time In Thinking Of Beauty, Bravery, Magnanimity; She Had A Fixed Determination To Regard The World As A Place Of Brightness, Of Free Expansion, Of Irresistible Action, She Thought It Would Be Detestable To Be Afraid Or Ashamed. She Had An Infinite Hope That She Would Never Do Anything Wrong. She Had Resented So Strongly, After Discovering Them, Her Mere Errors Of Feeling.

...the Peculiar Air Of Oxford-the Air Of Liberty To Care For The Things Of The Mind Assured And Secured By Machinery Which Is In Itself A Satisfaction To Sense.

She Envied Ralph His Dying, For If One Were Thinking Of Rest That Was The Most Perfect Of All. To Cease Utterly, To Give It All Up And Not Know Anything More — This Idea Was As Sweet As The Vision Of A Cool Bath In A Marble Tank, In A Darkened Chamber, In A Hot Land.

Her Memory's Your Love. You Want No Other.