Thomas Hardy Quotes
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Of course poets have morals and manners of their own, and custom is no argument with them.
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All romances end at marriage.
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Why didn’t you tell me there was danger? Why didn’t you warn me? Ladies know what to guard against, because they read novels that tell them of these tricks; but I never had the chance of discovering in that way; and you did not help me!
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There is always an inertia to be overcome in striking out a new line of conduct – not more in ourselves, it seems, than in circumscribing events, which appear as if leagued together to allow no novelties in the way of amelioration.
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It appears that ordinary men take wives because possession is not possible without marriage, and that ordinary women accept husbands because marriage is not possible without possession.
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When yellow lights struggle with blue shades in hairlike lines.
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The main object of religion is not to get a man into heaven, but to get heaven into him.
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Like the British Constitution, she owes her success in practice to her inconsistencies in principle.
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Happiness is but a mere episode in the general drama of pain.
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What is it, Angel?" she said, starting up. "Have they come for me?" "Yes, dearest," he said. "They have come." "It is as it should be," she murmured. "Angel, I am almost glad—yes, glad! This happiness could not have lasted. It was too much. I have had enough; and now I shall not live for you to despise me!" She stood up, shook herself, and went forward, neither of the men having moved. "I am ready," she said quietly.
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In the ill-judged execution of the well-judged plan of things the call seldom produces the comer, the man to love rarely coincides with the hour for loving. Nature does not often say 'See!' to her poor creature at a time when seeing can lead to happy doing; or reply 'Here!' to a body's cry of 'Where?' till the hide-and-seek has become an irksome outworn game.
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We ought to have lived in mental communion, and no more.
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If Galileo had said in verse that the world moved, the inquisition might have let him alone.
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We colour and mould according to the wants within us whatever our eyes bring in.
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But no one came. Because no one ever does.
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She was but a transient impression, half forgotten.
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This hobble of being alive is rather serious, don’t you think so?
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That cold accretion called the world, so terrible in the mass, is so non formidable, even pitiable, in its units.
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It was still early, and the sun's lower limb was just free of the hill, his rays, ungenial and peering, addressed the eye rather than the touch as yet.
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You are Joseph the dreamer of dreams, dear Jude. And a tragic Don Quixote. And sometimes you are St. Stephen, who, while they were stoning him, could see Heaven opened. Oh, my poor friend and comrade, you'll suffer yet!
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He knelt and bent lower, till her breath warmed his face, and in a moment his cheek was in contact with hers. She was sleeping soundly, and upon her eyelashes there lingered tears.
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Do you know that I have undergone three quarters of this labour entirely for the sake of the fourth quarter?
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How I have tried and tried to be a splendid woman, and how destiny has been against me! ...I do not deserve my lot! ...O, the cruelty of putting me into this ill-conceived world! I was capable of much; but I have been injured and blighted and crushed by things beyond my control! O, how hard it is of Heaven to devise such tortures for me, who have done no harm to heaven at all!
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You ride well, but you don't kiss nicely at all.