There’ll be spring every year without you, England still will be here without you, There’ll be fruit on the tree and a shore by the sea. There’ll be crumpets and tea without you. Art and music will thrive without you. Somehow Keats will survive without you. And there still will be rain on that plain down in Spain. Even that will remain without you. I can do.. without you. You, dear friend who talk so well, you can go to Hartford, Hereford and Hampshire they can still rule the land without you. Windsor Castle will stand without you. And without much ado we can all muddle through, without you! Without your pulling it the tide comes in. Without your twirling it the earth can spin. Without your pushing them the clouds roll by. If they can do without you, Ducky, so can I. I shall not feel alone without you. I can stand on my own without you. So go back in your shell, I can do bloody well.
A valedictory address, as those of you who have read your Plato’s Apology will remember, can be of inordinate length, but as I, unhappily, am not Socrates, and as I have often believed that “vita longa, ars brevis” is a more suitable apothegm than the one in more general use, and in connection with the word brevitas, it is, I think, of some small interest– it is, I think, of some small interest–
You must excuse me I had prepared a speech, but I find now that I have nothing to say, or rather I have three very small words, but they are most deeply felt. They are these: I am sorry. I am sorry because I have failed to give you what you had the right to demand of me as your teacher: sympathy, encouragement, and humanity. I’m sorry because I have deserved the nickname of “Himmler” and because by so doing I have degraded the noblest calling that a man can follow– the care and molding of the young.
I claim no excuses. When I came here I knew what I had to do, and I have not done it. I have failed, and miserably failed. I can only hope that you and the countless others who have gone before will find it in your hearts to forgive me for having let you down. I shall not find it easy to forgive myself. That is all. Goodbye.
I was bawling during this part, yup, I’m a crier haha
“The Browning Version” (1951), dir. Anthony Asquith