George Eliot Quotes
Love is frightened at the intervals of insensibility and callousness that encroach by little and little on the domain of grief, and it makes efforts to recall the keenness of the first anguish.
Quotes to Explore
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Love is a beautiful feeling.
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Look your best - who said love is blind?
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Excess of grief for the dead is madness; for it is an injury to the living, and the dead know it not.
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Love is the funeral of hearts.
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It has been said that love is a function of communication. I believe that to be true. I believe, by extension, that human understanding is a function of communication. And the better human beings understand one another, the higher the level of functioning.
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Love is a wonderful thing that one misses.
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Love one another and help others to rise to the higher levels, simply by pouring out love. Love is infectious and the greatest healing energy.
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Love is the expansion of two natures in such fashion that each include the other, each is enriched by the other.
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Love is the beauty of the soul.
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There is a sacredness in tears. They are not the mark of weakness, but of power. They speak more eloquently than ten thousand tongues. They are the messengers of overwhelming grief, of deep contrition, and of unspeakable love.
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My mother keeps things in perspective for me. She makes me realize that the acting I do and love is no more important than what one of my brothers does-he works in a shoe repair shop. If my career ever tapers off, I'll go to college.
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Regardless of who you are or who you like, love is love.
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It is here, my daughters, that love is to be found - not hidden away in corners but in the midst of occasions of sin. And believe me, although we may more often fail and commit small lapses, our gain will be incomparably the greater.
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Where grief is fresh, any attempt to divert it only irritates.
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To love is to act.
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No one ever told me that grief felt so like fear.
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During my grief, I realised there was nothing I could do for my mother, but I did have a child.
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As far as love is concerned, possession, power, fusion and disenchantment are the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse.
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My dreams never died, they just changed. I still have dreams every day.
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The world is weary of hate. We see the fatigue overcoming the Western nations.
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Love is frightened at the intervals of insensibility and callousness that encroach by little and little on the domain of grief, and it makes efforts to recall the keenness of the first anguish.
