1. A great many Cambridge buildings remind one of the Tower of
 London. Most of the undergraduates whom I met I liked very much.
 Their dons, as judged by those who were at the "do", are
 certainly inferior to ours in charm of manners and geniality. One
 I thought hardly a gentleman.

Nobody had the slightest idea. In fact it's C.S. Lewis, in
his pre-Christian days. See his Letters. 

2. I say, nowhere in the world is such a coincidence observable,
 and they that will not take it for a portent may go back to their
 rationalism and consort with microbes and make their meals off
 logarithms, washed down with an exact distillation of the root of
 minus one; and the peace of fools, that is the deepest and most
 balmy of all, be theirs for ever and ever.

Not Scott of the Antarctic, or even his doctor. Hilaire
Belloc's 'The path to Rome', a remarkable book detailing a very
long crazy walk he undertook. This passage is deliberately
overstated.

3. "The _Independent_, sir," replied Pott, "is still dragging on
 a wretched and lingering career. Abhorred and despised by even
 the few who are cognizant of its miserable and disgraceful
 existence, stifled by the very filth it so profusely scatters,
 rendered deaf and blind by the exhalations of its own slime, the
 obscene journal, happily unconscious of its degraded state, is
 rapidly sinking beneath that treacherous mud  which, while it
 seems to give it a firm standing with the low and debased classes
 of society, is nevertheless rising above its detested head, and
 will speedily engulf it for ever."

Not Oliver Goldsmith, not Evelyn Waugh, not P.G. Wodehouse.
In fact it's Dickens' 'The Pickwick papers.'

4. Whereas at a tavern, there is a general freedom from anxiety.
 You are sure you are welcome: and the more noise you make, the
 more trouble you give, the more good things you call for, the
 welcomer you are.

Samuel Johnson quoted, not surprisingly, by Boswell. Nobody
had any significant alternative suggestions.

5. The Dormouse awoke with a start, and began as though it had
 been awake all the time: "There was an old woman who lived in a
 shoe--"
  "I know, said Alice, "she had so many children that she didn't
 know what to do."
  "Nothing of the sort," said the Dormouse, "you lack the gift of
 imagination. She put them into Treasuries and Foreign Offices and
 Boards of Trade, and all sorts of unlikely places where they
 could learn things."
  "What did they learn?" asked Alice.
  "Painting in glowing colours, and attrition, and terminology
 (that's the science of knowing when things are over), and
 iteration (that's the same thing over again), and drawing--"
  "What did they draw?"
  "Salaries..."

No this is NOT Lewis Carroll, it's a rather dated parody by
Saki called 'The Westminster Alice.' This is one of the few bits
that seemed curiously modern.

6. In Mathematicks he was greater
   Than Tycho Brahe, or Erra Pater:
   For he by Geometrick scale
   Could take the size of Pots of Ale;
   Resolve by Signes and Tangents straight,
   If Bread or Butter wanted weight;
   And wisely tell what hour o'th day
   The clock does strike, by Algebra.

Samuel Butler: 'Hudibras'. Not to be confused with Samuel
Butler, 'Erewhon'. Not Marlowe, Gilbert, Rabelais, nor Ben
Jonson, or even Ben Johnson.

7. You appear, malefactor, to have committed crimes -- and of all
 these you have been proved guilty by the ingenious arrangement
 invoked by the learned recorder of my spoken word -- which render
 you liable to hanging, slicing, pressing, boiling, roasting,
 grilling, freezing, vatting, racking, twisting, drawing,
 compressing, inflating, rending, spiking, gouging, limb-tying,
 piecemeal-pruning and a variety of less tersely describable
 discomforts with which the time of this court need not be taken
 up. The important consideration is, in what order are we to
 proceed and when, if ever, are we to stop?

Not Chesterton, not Oscar Wilde or even Rostand. It comes
from 'Kai Lung's golden hours' by Ernest Bramah. Maybe nobody
reads the Kai Lung books these days.

8. The Master was a retired pure mathematician who had no
 pretensions towards social ease. Wearing a full-length gown, he
 stood glumly in the centre of the room while we milled around him
 in our short gowns. Throwing a glass of sherry down my throat and
 plucking another from a passing silver platter, I assessed him as
 a nonentity and was duly rewarded for my acumen by finding out,
 twenty years later, that he had been on the committee which
 approved the funds for the first Manchester computer just after
 World War II.

Clive James' memoirs, as revealed earlier. Pembroke College may have
changed slightly since then. Might have been Kingsley Amis, but
wasn't.

9. No, I said to him, look, I said, can you remind me-- what is
 the essential thing we're supposed to be in it for?-- the
 ideological nub of the matter? Is it power to the workers; is it
 the means of production, distribution and exchange; is it each
 according to his needs; is it the expropriation of the
 expropriators? Know what he said? Historical inevitability!
 Historical inevitability! You're joking, I said. Pull the other
 one, it's got bells on. No you'll have to do better than that.

Tom Stoppard: 'The dog it was that died.' Couldn't really be
anyone else, and nobody else was suggested.

10.  He's a Blockhead who wants a proof of what he can't Perceive,
     And he's a Fool who tries to make such a Blockhead believe.

An epigram from William Blake. Religious debaters (on both sides)
please note!