He had enjoyed himself at Oriel not as a reading recluse, but as a boy out of school, and he was as young in heart as ever.

Strange is the hold that Oxford lays upon men, and not less strong than strange.

Nothing weakens it; neither time, nor distance, nor success, nor failure, nor the revolution of opinion, nor the deaths of friends.

Oxford had been unjust to Froude, and had driven out one of her most illustrious sons in something like disgrace.

Yet he never wavered in his affection for her, and the many vicissitudes of his life he came back to Oriel with the spirits of a boy.