Cecily.  Well, ever since dear Uncle Jack first confessed to us that he had a younger brother who was very wicked and bad, you of course have formed the chief topic of conversation between myself and Miss Prism.  And of course a man who is much talked about is always very attractive.  One feels there must be something in him, after all.  I daresay it was foolish of me, but I fell in love with you, Ernest. Algernon.  Darling!  And when was the engagement actually settled? Cecily.  On the 14th of February last.  Worn out by your entire ignorance of my existence, I determined to end the matter one way or the other, and after a long struggle with myself I accepted you under this dear old tree here.  The next day I bought this little ring in your name, and this is the little bangle with the true lover’s knot I promised you always to wear. Algernon.  Did I give you this?  It’s very pretty, isn’t it? Cecily.  Yes, you’ve wonderfully good taste, Ernest.  It’s the excuse I’ve always given for your leading such a bad life.  And this is the box in which I keep all your dear letters.  [Kneels at table, opens box, and produces letters tied up with blue ribbon.] Algernon.  My letters!  But, my own sweet Cecily, I have never written you any letters. Cecily.  You need hardly remind me of that, Ernest.  I remember only too well that I was forced to write your letters for you.  I wrote always three times a week, and sometimes oftener.

Cecily.  Uncle Jack would be very much annoyed if he knew you were staying on till next week, at the same hour. Algernon.  Oh, I don’t care about Jack.  I don’t care for anybody in the whole world but you.  I love you, Cecily.  You will marry me, won’t you? Cecily.  You silly boy!  Of course.  Why, we have been engaged for the last three months.

Cecily.  What is the matter, Uncle Jack?  Do look happy!  You look as if you had toothache, and I have got such a surprise for you.  Who do you think is in the dining-room?  Your brother! Jack.  Who? Cecily.  Your brother Ernest.  He arrived about half an hour ago. Jack.  What nonsense!  I haven’t got a brother. Cecily.  Oh, don’t say that.  However badly he may have behaved to you in the past he is still your brother.  You couldn’t be so heartless as to disown him.  I’ll tell him to come out.  And you will shake hands with him, won’t you, Uncle Jack?  [Runs back into the house.] Chasuble.  These are very joyful tidings. Miss Prism.  After we had all been resigned to his loss, his sudden return seems to me peculiarly distressing. Jack.  My brother is in the dining-room?  I don’t know what it all means.  I think it is perfectly absurd. [Enter Algernon and Cecily hand in hand.  They come slowly up to Jack.] Jack.  Good heavens!  [Motions Algernon away.] Algernon.  Brother John, I have come down from town to tell you that I am very sorry for all the trouble I have given you, and that I intend to lead a better life in the future.  [Jack glares at him and does not take his hand.]

Jack.  My dear Algy, you talk exactly as if you were a dentist.  It is very vulgar to talk like a dentist when one isn’t a dentist.  It produces a false impression

Algernon.  [To Cecily.]  Darling!

Women only do that when they have called each other a lot of other things first. 

What shall we do after dinner?  Go to a theatre? Jack.  Oh no!  I loathe listening. Algernon.  Well, let us go to the Club? Jack.  Oh, no!  I hate talking. Algernon.  Well, we might trot round to the Empire at ten? Jack.  Oh, no!  I can’t bear looking at things.  It is so silly. Algernon.  Well, what shall we do? Jack.  Nothing!

All women become like their mothers.  That is their tragedy.  No man does.  That’s his

I didn’t think it polite to listen, sir.

Elena is a praise-seeking student who uses school to escape an unhappy family life, most acutely an abusive, limping mother.

One reason that the Neapolitan novels were particularly apt for this project is that they are books that are about books,

Students give voice to a different, a radical species of incomprehension that bodes ill for the culture, the society, and the polity that they will constitute. 

to assess whether or not they are discharging their obligation under the semester.

The concession naturally and drastically reduces the amount of reading that the semester can accommodate, but it obviates the career-threatening complaints.

the private college is perpetually in the grip of a panic over the prospect of a drop in enrollment. 

the texts that students tell me they “can’t understand” are The Odyssey or a novel by Hawthorne or Melville or a short story by Ray Bradbury