fall can’t come fast enough
August 31, 2012
‘It is typical of Oxford,’ I said, ‘to start the new year in autumn.’
Everywhere, on cobble and gravel and lawn, the leaves were falling and in the college gardens the smoke of the bonfires joined the wet river mist, drifting across the grey walls; the flags were oily underfoot and as, one by one, the lamps were lit in the windows round the quad, the golden lights were diffuse and remote, new figures in new gowns wandered through the twilight under the arches and the familiar bells now spoke of a year’s memories.
Brideshead Revisited, by Evelyn Waugh