University Of Oxford Alumni

"[What is Keir Starmer's Labour government for?] Is it for social justice? Equality? Liberalism? Freedom? No one knows, and Starmer actively dislikes talking in these terms. To return to [[Harold Wilson|[Harold] Wilson]]'s aphorism, from [[Jeremy Corbyn|[Jeremy] Corbyn]] to Starmer, Labour has gone from being nothing but a moral crusade to anything but. And by forgoing the theory of politics, Starmer is leaving himself open to the most obvious post-election day attack: now the Tories are gone, his principal argument for the necessity of himself has gone with it. What is the point of Starmer? What gels a wide but shallow coalition together without the Tory bogeyman at the door? What will the Starmer coalition be for as well as against? That question has not been answered in the election campaign."

"[[John Pilger|[John] Pilger]]'s early Cambodia films, Year Zero (1979) and Year One (1980), were very moving, made Cambodia and the horror of the Khmer Rouge rule a real issue for millions of people and raised a lot of money for Cambodia. But I thought both films were flawed by the equation of America and the Khmer Rouge. By skilful orchestration of emotions and actuality, Pilger seemed to show that, of governments, only the Vietnamese really cared about helping Cambodia and that official Western aid was designed to subvert rather than succour. I thought that this was dangerous nonsense, dangerous for hungry Cambodians, because the Vietnamese had put outrageous restrictions on aid. Also, to accept Vietnamese domination of the country seemed to me like accepting Soviet domination of Poland because they liberated it from the Nazis."

"In a slombrynge slepe with slouth opprest As I in my naked bedde was leyd Thynkynge all nyght to take my rest Morpleus to me than made abreyd And in my dreme me thought he sayd Come walke with me in a medowe amerous Depeynted with floures that be delycyous."

"For knighthode is not in the feates of warre, As for to fight in quarell right or wronge, But in a cause which trouth can not defarre; He ought him selfe for to make sure and stronge Justice to kepe mixt with mercy amonge; And no quarell a knight ought to take, But for a trouth or for the comins sake."

"O mortall folke, you may beholde and see Howe I lye here, sometime a mighty knight; The ende of joye, and all prosperitie Is death at last, th[o]rough his course and myght: After the day there cometh the darke nyght, For thoughe the day be never so long, At last the belles ringeth to evensong"

"I adore war. ... It is like a big picnic but without the objectivelessness of a picnic. I have never been more well or more happy. ... It just suits my stolid health and stolid nerves and barbaric disposition. The fighting-excitement vitalizes everything, every sight and action. One loves one's fellow man so much more when one is bent on killing him."

"The thundering line of battle stands, And in the air Death moans and sings; But Day shall clasp him with strong hands, And Night shall fold him in soft wings."

"Where there's death, there's hope."

"Can't help you. Pity. Slept with him once—should have asked him then."

"Charles understood better than his father or his adversary that the chief material of war was money."

"He had achieved spectacular victories in the field and in the conference chamber. But the treaty of Brétigny, which marked the high point of his achievement, could never have represented a permanent settlement. The circumstances which produced it were too extraordinary. So Edward was condemned to see thirty years of conquest reversed in less than five. After a lifetime devoted to conquest in Scotland and France, he ended his reign with precisely the territory that he had started with. He died leaving his realm exhausted by intensive taxation and persistent military failure. He had healed the bitter divisions which he had inherited from his father, but bequeathed others to his successor, Richard II, which would one day contribute to his destruction."

"He [Rishi Sunak] must eschew complex, technocratic schemes, and focus on clear retail policies aimed at his own voters. He needs to forget about appealing to those who have already made up their minds to vote for Left-wing parties, or who always back the Greens, the SNP, the Lib Dems or Labour. He must give floating voters concrete reasons why they would be better off if he is reelected."

"The PM apparently believes that he has wrong-footed Nigel Farage by calling an election for July 4; he must now make a bold offer to Reform's crucial electorate. He needs to be firm on Brexit, and highlight how Labour is bound to begin a gradual sell-out."

"We urgently need an entirely different political class that is willing to puncture our national delusions."

"There is now a striking correlation between levels of education and holding stupid, destructive ideas, between being highly credentialled and falling for every fashionable conspiracy theory, every tribalistic affliction, every online fad."

"We will never fully recover from our long, debilitating membership of the EU."

"Finance was always Edwards III’s weak point. He had little understanding of the problems of taxation or credit and was bored by administration. He tended to fund his enterprises on a hand-to-mouth basis, without budgets or forecasts."

"Politics still matters, as does leadership, vision and statecraft. By sheer will-power, Boris Johnson and his advisers have delivered a radically better deal for Britain, forcing the EU's technocratic juggernaut into a screeching u-turn. It can't be done, we were told, ad nauseam, and yet Johnson delivered, proving that he is, in fact, a statesman."

"But it's not just that we should never have joined: the EU should have kept us out for its own good."

"There is a new nasty party, and it isn’t the Tories. Our declinist-Remainer class has outdone itself, demonising and dismissing Liz Truss, and working itself up into a frenzy of self-righteous rage and indignation at the supposed incompetence of her new Government. Even for those inured to the extreme tribalism and coarseness of modern political discourse, the insults, double-standards and prejudice have been something to behold. I'm optimistic about the Truss Government. Yes, of course, nobody can possibly know how well it will do – whether it will outwit the Blob to push through genuine improvements. But it is absurd to state, almost as self-evident fact, that it is bound to collapse, that it cannot last even two years [until the next general election.]"

"The government of Mortimer and Isabella was intensely hated. It proved to be just as vindictive, despotic and unstable as that of the Despensers but a great deal less competent."

"Some of the troops had been conscripted, the last occasion when compulsion played a significant part in the recruitment of Edward’s armies. But most of them were volunteers serving for adventure, honour and money. This remarkable reversal of the English nobility’s traditional objection to foreign military service was arguably Edward III’s most significant achievement."

"In chess, the capture of the king marks the end of the game. In politics, it may be only the beginning."

"Edward’s chief asset was his personality. He was uncomplicated and likable. He was flamboyant, extrovert and generous. His household and his war retinue became famous centres of chivalry. He presided at splendid entertainments at court. He was addicted to practical jokes and fancy-dress parties. He fought in the lists himself, with the same reckless courage that he would later show in battle. For his humbler subjects, it was enough that he behaved as a king was expected to behave, and favoured the sort of people whom a king was expected to favour."

"Edward III’s claim to the crown of France was a bargaining counter, to be surrendered as part of a permanent territorial settlement. Edward always had an exaggerated idea of its value, just as he had an unrealistic view of the strength of his bargaining position generally. He would pass the next decade trying to exploit his victory at Crécy and discovering how much more complicated the world really was."

"This was the best Budget I have ever heard a British Chancellor deliver, by a massive margin. The tax cuts were so huge and bold, the language so extraordinary, that at times, listening to Kwasi Kwarteng, I had to pinch myself to make sure I wasn’t dreaming, that I hadn’t been transported to a distant land that actually believed in the economics of Milton Friedman and FA Hayek. But Liz Truss and Kwarteng are very much for real, and in revolutionary mood."

"Edward III had always greatly overestimated the help that conspirators and malcontents could bring him."

"Without you, Heaven would be too dull to bear, And Hell would not be Hell if you are there."

"Hong Kong, once a vibrant and politically diverse community is slowly becoming a totalitarian state. The rule of law is profoundly compromised in any area about which the government feels strongly... Intimidated or convinced by the darkening political mood, many judges have lost sight of their traditional role as defenders of the liberty of the subject, even when the law allows it"

"Success is admirable in a king, but failure is compelling and usually better recorded."

"The life-work of Sir Maurice Bowra, Warden of Wadham College for over thirty years, and Oxford Professor of Poetry, was to rediscover and re-create the history and literature of the Ancient Classical world. Though he became a scholar of international standing, he was never a pure scholar in the strict sense. He does not belong to the crystalline limbo of Scaliger or Bentley or Housman. His purpose was missionary: to reconvert a modern audience and readership for whom the urbane tradition of classical learning—in fact the whole august zodiac of classical reference—has come to seem deeply alien, if not actually menacing in its humped posture of intellectual introversion. But the whole tenor of Bowra's writing was extrovert."

"Buggers can't be choosers"

"England, however, was endowed with a precociously advanced system of government which made its kings powerful beyond anything warranted by its comparatively modest resources. Unlike France, which had developed as a nation by the gradual coalescence of ancient autonomous provinces, each with its own distinct political and cultural traditions, England had been conquered in the space of a few years in the eleventh century by the Norman kings, who had created a centralized, unitary state and settled it with a new, alien aristocracy. Three centuries later, Englishman still had a highly developed notion of public authority."

"I don't know about you, gentlemen, but in Oxford I, at least, am known by my face."

"Whatever you hear about the war, remember it was inconceivably bloody — nobody who wasn't there can ever imagine what it was like."

"It is one of the paradoxes of England’s medieval history that in spite of its strong central institutions it was known mainly for its chronic political instability."

"The Tuscan poet Dante Alighieri had a simple explanation for England’s problematic status in fourteenth-century Europe. The difficulty, he thought, lay in their national character. The English were a proud and covetous people, ever eager for conquest and incapable of remaining peaceably within their own borders. Dante’s opinion echoed the conventional sentiment of his day, which regarded England as a society to which violence and aggression came naturally."

"Though I knew very well that I had nothing like Denniston's linguistic equipment for the study of Greek, I agreed with him about its purpose. The task of a Greek scholar, we both thought, was to revive as best he could for the modern world the inner life of the Greeks by a close examination of their literature."

"Though like Our Lord and Socrates he does not publish much, he thinks and says a great deal and has had an enormous influence on our times"

"Splendid couple—slept with both of them."

"Buggery was invented to fill that awkward hour between evensong and cocktails."

"I'm a man more dined against than dining."

"Ratsey raised his glass almost before it was filled. He sniffed the liquor and smacked his lips. 'O rare milk of Ararat!' he said, 'it is sweet and strong, and sets the heart at ease. And now get the backgammon-board, John, and set it for us on the table.' So they fell to the game, and I took a sly sip at the liquor, but nearly choked myself, not being used to strong waters, and finding it heady and burning in the throat. Neither man spoke, and there was no sound except the constant rattle of the dice, and the rubbing of the pieces being moved across the board. Now and then one of the players stopped to light his pipe, and at the end of a game they scored their totals on the table with a bit of chalk. So I watched them for an hour, knowing the game myself, and being interested at seeing Elzevir's backgammon-board, which I had heard talked of before.It had formed part of the furniture of the Why Not? for generations of landlords, and served perhaps to pass time for of the Civil Wars. All was of oak, black and polished, board, dice-boxes, and men, but round the edge ran a Latin inscription inlaid in light wood, which I read on that first evening, but did not understand till Mr. Glennie translated it to me. I had cause to remember it afterwards, so I shall set it down here in Latin for those who know that tongue, Ita in vita ut in lusu alae pessima jactura arte corrigenda est, and in English as Mr. Glennie translated it, As in life, so in a game of hazard, skill will make something of the worst of throws. At last Elzevir looked up and spoke to me, not unkindly, 'Lad, it is time for you to go home; men say that walks on the first nights of winter, and some have met him face to face betwixt this house and yours.' I saw he wanted to be rid of me, so bade them both good night, and was off home, running all the way thither, though not from any fear of Blackbeard, for Ratsey had often told me that there was no chance of meeting him unless one passed the churchyard by night."

"He might have spoken to a deaf man for all he moved his judge; and Elzevir's answer was to cock the pistol and prime the powder in the pan."

"We have done with dogma and divinity, Easter and Whitsun past, The long, long Sundays after Trinity, Are with us at last; The passionless Sundays after Trinity, Neither feast-day nor fast.Christmas comes with plenty, Lent spreads out its pall, But these are five and twenty, The longest Sundays of all; The placid Sundays after Trinity, Wheat-harvest, fruit-harvest, Fall.Spring with its burst is over, Summer has had its day, The scented grasses and clover Are cut, and dried into hay; The singing-birds are silent, And the swallows flown away.Post pugnam pausa fiet; Lord, we have made our choice; In the stillness of autumn quiet, We have heard the still, small voice. We have sung Oh where shall Wisdom? Thick paper, folio, Boyce.Let it not all be sadness, Not omnia vanitas, Stir up a little gladness To lighten the Tibi cras; Send us that little summer, That comes with Martinmas.When still the cloudlet dapples The windless cobalt blue, And the scent of gathered apples Fills all the store-rooms through, The gossamer silvers the bramble, The lawns are gemmed with dew.An end of tombstone Latinity, Stir up sober mirth, Twenty-fifth after Trinity, Kneel with the listening earth, Behind the Advent trumpets They are singing Emmanuel’s birth."

"Westray looked up and saw the great window at the end of the transept shimmering with a dull lustre; light only in comparison with the shadows that were falling inside the church. It was an insertion of Perpendicular date, reaching from wall to wall, and almost from floor to roof. Its vast breadth, parcelled out into eleven lights, and the infinite division of the stonework in the head, impressed the imagination; while mullions and tracery stood out in such inky contrast against the daylight yet lingering outside, that the architect read the scheme of subarcuation and the tracery as easily as if he had been studying a plan. Sundown had brought no gleam to lift the pall of the dying day, but the monotonous grey of the sky was still sufficiently light to enable a practised eye to make out that the head of the window was filled with a broken medley of ancient glass, where translucent blues and yellows and reds mingled like the harmony of an old patchwork quilt. Of the lower divisions of the window, those at the sides had no colour to clothe their nakedness, and remained in ghostly whiteness; but the three middle lights were filled with strong browns and purples of the seventeenth century. Here and there in the rich colour were introduced medallions, representing apparently scriptural scenes, and at the top of each light, under the cusping, was a coat of arms. The head of the middle division formed the centre of the whole scheme, and seemed to represent a shield of silver-white crossed by waving sea-green bars. Westray’s attention was attracted by the unusual colouring, and by the transparency of the glass, which shone as with some innate radiance where all was dim. He turned almost unconsciously to ask whose arms were thus represented, but the Rector had left him for a minute, and he heard an irritating “Ha, ha, ha!” at some distance down the nave, that convinced him that the story of Sir George Farquhar and the postponed fees was being retold in the dusk to a new victim.Someone, however, had evidently read the architect’s thoughts, for a sharp voice said:“That is the coat of the Blandamers—barry nebuly of six, argent and vert.” It was the organist who stood near him in the deepening shadows. “I forgot that such jargon probably conveys no meaning to you, and, indeed, I know no heraldry myself excepting only this one coat of arms, and sometimes wish,” he said with a sigh, “that I knew nothing of that either. There have been queer tales told of that shield, and maybe there are queerer yet to be told. It has been stamped for good or evil on this church, and on this town, for centuries, and every tavern loafer will talk to you about the ‘nebuly coat’ as if it was a thing he wore. You will be familiar enough with it before you have been a week at Cullerne.”There was in the voice something of melancholy, and an earnestness that the occasion scarcely warranted. It produced a curious effect on Westray, and led him to look closely at the organist; but it was too dark to read any emotion in his companion’s face, and at this moment the Rector rejoined them.“Eh, what? Ah, yes; the nebuly coat. Nebuly, you know, from the Latin nebulum, nebulus I should say, a cloud, referring to the wavy outline of the bars, which are supposed to represent cumulus clouds. Well, well, it is too dark to pursue our studies further this evening, but to-morrow I can accompany you the whole day, and shall be able to tell you much that will interest you.”"

"In the days of Caesar Augustus There went forth this decree: Si quid rectus et justus Liveth in Galilee, Let him go up to Jerusalem And pay his scot to me.There are passed one after the other Christmases fifty-three, Since I sat here with my mother And heard the great decree: How they went up to Jerusalem Out of Galilee.They have passed one after the other; Father and mother died, Brother and sister and brother Taken and sanctified. I am left alone in the sitting, With none to sit beside.On the fly-leaves of these old prayer-books The childish writings fade, Which show that once they were their books In the days when prayer was made For other kings and princesses, William and Adelaide.The pillars are twisted with holly, And the font is wreathed with yew, Christ forgive me for folly, Youth’s lapses—not a few, For the hardness of my middle life, For age’s fretful view.Cotton-wool letters on scarlet, All the ancient lore, Tell how the chieftains starlit To Bethlehem came to adore; To hail Him King in the manger, Wonderful, Counsellor.The bells ring out in the steeple The gladness of erstwhile, And the children of other people Are walking up the aisle; They brush my elbow in passing, Some turn to give me a smile.Is the almond-blossom bitter? Is the grasshopper heavy to bear? Christ make me happier, fitter To go to my own over there: Jerusalem the Golden, What bliss beyond compare!My Lord, where I have offended Do Thou forgive it me. That so when, all being ended, I hear Thy last decree, I may go up to Jerusalem Out of Galilee."

"Who are these from the strange, ineffable places, From the Topaze Mountain and Desert of Doubt, With the glow of the Yemen full on their faces, And a breath from the spices of Hadramaut?Travel-apprentices, travel-indenturers, Young men, old men, black hair, white, Names to conjure with, wild adventurers, From the noonday furnace and purple night.Burckhardt, Halévy, Niebuhr, Slater, Seventeenth, eighteenth-century bays, Seetzen, Sadleir, Struys, and later Down to the long Victorian days.A thousand miles at the back of Aden, There they had time to think of things; In the outer silence and burnt air laden With the shadow of death and a vulture’s wings.There they remembered the last house in Samna, Last of the plane-trees, last shepherd and flock, Prayed for the heavens to rain down manna, Prayed for a Moses to strike the rock.Famine and fever flagged their forces Till they died in a dream of ice and fruit, In the long-forgotten watercourses By the edge of Queen Zobëide’s route.They have left the hope of the green oases, The fear of the bleaching bones and the pest, They have found the more ineffable places— Allah has given them rest."

"I dined with Michael Heseltine at his request at the Stafford Hotel towards the end of July [1990]. "Are you going to run in the autumn?" I asked him bluntly. He obfuscated at first (he did not really know me well enough to take me into his confidence) but later, as we lingered over several brandies past midnight, he said: "I am of a mind to do it. But I have only one bullet in my gun. I can't afford to miss"."

"Michael was one of the great, commanding political figures of my time and I always admired and sympathized with him."