George Eliot Quotes
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Eros has degenerated; he began by introducing order and harmony, and now he brings back chaos.
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Her own misery filled her heart—there was no room in it for other people's sorrow.
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There is no sense of ease like the ease we felt in those scenes where we were born.
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A good solid bit of work lasts.
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Opinions: men's thoughts about great subjects. Taste: their thoughts about small ones: dress, behavior, amusements, ornaments.
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It is a wonderful subduer-this need of love, this hunger of the heart.
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Religion can only change when the emotions which fill it are changed; and the religion of personal fear remains nearly at the level of the savage.
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Dark the Night, with breath all flowers, And tender broken voice that fills With ravishment the listening hours,-- Whisperings, wooings, Liquid ripples, and soft ring-dove cooings In low-toned rhythm that love's aching stills! Dark the night Yet is she bright, For in her dark she brings the mystic star, Trembling yet strong, as is the voice of love, From some unknown afar.
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He had the superficial kindness of a good-humored, self-satisfied nature, that fears no rivalry, and has encountered no contrarieties.
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Joy and sorrow are both my perpetual companions, but the joy is called Past and the sorrow Present.
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Much of our waking experience is but a dream in the daylight.
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Death was not to be a leap: it was to be a long descent under thickening shadows.
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It's no use filling your pocket with money if you have got a hole in the corner.
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The sublime delight of truthful speech to one who has the great gift of uttering it, will make itself felt even through the pangs of sorrow.
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Children demand that their heroes should be freckle less, and easily believe them so: perhaps a first discovery to the contrary is less revolutionary shock to a passionate child than the threatened downfall of habitual beliefs which makes the world seem to totter for us in maturer life.
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Awful Night! Ancestral mystery of mysteries.
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It's all one web, sir. The prosperity of the country is one web.
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Of a truth, Knowledge is power, but it is a power reined by scruple, having a conscience of what must be and what may be. . . .
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In the man whose childhood has known caresses and kindness, there is always a fiber of memory that can be touched to gentle issues.
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I tell you there isn't a thing under the sun that needs to be done at all, but what a man can do better than a woman, unless it's bearing children, and they do that in a poor make-shift way; it had better ha been left to the men.
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Man finds his pathways: at first they were foot-tracks, as those of the beast in the wilderness; now they are swift and invisible: his thought dives through the ocean, and his wishes thread the air: has he found all the pathways yet? What reaches him, stays with him, rules him: he must accept it, not knowing its pathway.
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We have all our secret sins; and if we knew ourselves we should not judge each other harshly.
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Hopes have precarious life. They are oft blighted, withered, snapped sheer off In vigorous growth and turned to rottenness.
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We all remember epochs in our experience when some dear expectation dies, or some new motive is born.