Edward Hopper Early Sunday Morning painting

Edward Hopper Early Sunday Morning paintingLeroy Neiman Ryder Cup paintingLeroy Neiman 37th Ryder Cup painting
To keep his hands in his pockets thus—with his coat back and the middle button alone fastened—was now his privilege, for he was in his third year. He could also wear coloured socks and was indeed at the moment wearing a pair of heliotrope silk with white clocks, purchased the day before in Jermyn Street. There were several things, formerly forbidden, which were now his right. He could link his arm in a friend’s and he did so now, strolling across to Hall arm-in-arm with Tamplin.
They paused at the top of the steps and stared out in the gloaming. To their left the great bulk of the chapel loomed immensely; below them the land fell away in terraces to the playing fields with their dark fringe of elm; headlights moved continuously up and down the coast road; the estuary was just traceable, a lighter streak across the grey lowland, before it merged into the calm and invisible sea.
“Same old view,” said Tamplin.
“Give me the lights of London,” said Charles. “I say, it’s rotten luck for you about the Settle.”