George Eliot Quotes
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It is impossible, to me at least, to be poetical in cold weather.
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If a man goes a little too far along a new road, it is usually himself that he harms more than any one else.
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I've always felt that your belongings have never been on a level with you.
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There is no sorrow I have thought more about than that-to love what is great, and try to reach it, and yet to fail.
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I will to make life less bitter for a few within my reach.
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The only failure one should fear, is not hugging to the purpose they see as best.
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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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When you get me a good man made out of arguments, I will get you a good dinner with reading you the cookery book.
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Unhappily the habit of being offensive 'without meaning it' leads usually to a way of making amends which the injured person cannot but regard as a being amiable without meaning it.
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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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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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Loquacity with tongue or pen is its own reward -- or, punishment.
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There is no feeling, perhaps, except the extremes of fear and grief, that does not find relief in music,--that does not make a man sing or play the better.
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The early months of marriage often are times of critical tumult,--whether that of a shrimp pool or of deeper water,--which afterwards subside into cheerful peace.
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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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My books don't seem to belong to me after I have once written them; and I find myself delivering opinions about them as if I had nothing to do with them.
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No man can be wise on an empty stomach.
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A man vows, and yet will not east away the means of breaking his vow. Is it that he distinctly means to break it? Not at all; but the desires which tend to break it are at work in him dimly, and make their way into his imagination, and relax his muscles in the very moments when he is telling himself over again the reasons for his vow.
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We all remember epochs in our experience when some dear expectation dies, or some new motive is born.
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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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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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Explain! Tell a man to explain how he dropped into hell! Explain my preference! I never had a PREFERENCE for her, any more than I have a preference for breathing. No other woman exists by the side of her. I would rather touch her hand if it were dead, than I would touch any other woman's living.
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A good horse makes short miles.
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A good solid bit of work lasts.