George Eliot Quotes
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Hatred is like fire, it makes even light rubbish deadly.
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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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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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Much of our waking experience is but a dream in the daylight.
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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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Opinions: men's thoughts about great subjects. Taste: their thoughts about small ones: dress, behavior, amusements, ornaments.
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When a homemaking aunt scolds a niece for following her evangelistic passion instead of domestic pursuits, her reply is interesting. First, she clarifies that God's individual call on her doesn't condemn those in more conventional roles. Then, she says she can no more ignore the cry of the lost than her aunt can the cry of her child.
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A good horse makes short miles.
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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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Confound you handsome young fellows! You think of having it all your own way in the world. You don't understand women. They don't admire you half so much as you admire yourselves.
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There is hardly any contact more depressing to a young ardent creature than that of a mind in which years full of knowledge seem to have issued in a blank absence of interest or sympathy.
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I trust you as holy men trust God; you could do nought that was not pure and loving, though the deed might pierce me unto death.
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The sweetest of all success is that which one wins by hard exertion.
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... it is because sympathy is but a living again through our own past in a new form, that confession often prompts a response of confession.
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When one wanted one's interests looking after whatever the cost, it was not so well for a lawyer to be over honest, else he might not be up to other people's tricks.
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There are new eras in one's life that are equivalent to youth-are something better than youth.
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What courage and patience are wanted for every life that aims to produce anything!
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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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What sunshine is to flowers, smiles are to humanity.
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Great feelings will often take the aspect of error, and great faith the aspect of illusion.
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After all, the true seeing is within.
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A bachelor's children are always young: they're immortal children - always lisping, waddling, helpless, and with a chance of turning out good.
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Errors look so very ugly in persons of small means -one feels they are taking quite a liberty in going astray; whereas people of fortune may naturally indulge in a few delinquencies.