"The grass is full of ghosts tonight. The whole campus is alive with them." They paused by Little and watched the moon rise, to make silver of the slate roof of Dodd and blue the rustling trees. "You know," whispered Tom, 'what we feel now is the sense of all the gorgeous youth that has rioted through here in two hundred years."
"And what we leave here is more than class; it's the whole heritage of youth. We're just one generation-- we're breaking all the links that seemed to bind us her to top-booted and high-stocked generations."
"That's what they are," Tom tangented off, 'deep-blue-- a bit of color would spoil them, make them exotic."
― F. Scott Fitzgerald, This Side of Paradise