And that sweet city with her dreaming spires,
She needs not June for beautys heightening… – Matthew Arnold
But each day brings its petty dust our soon-choked souls to fill, and we forget because we must, and not because we will. – Matthew Arnold
Bald as the bare mountain tops are bald, with a baldness full of grandeur. – Matthew Arnold
The working-class is now issuing from its hiding-place to assert an Englishmans heaven-born privilege of doing as he likes, and is beginning to perplex us by marching where it likes, meeting where it likes, bawling what it likes, breaking what it likes. – Matthew Arnold
The ages of seven to eleven is a huge chunk of life, full of dulling and forgetting. It is fabled that we slowly lose the gift of speech with animals, that birds no longer visit our windowsills to converse. As our eyes grow accustomed to sight they armour themselves against wonder. – Leonard Cohen