Thomas Hardy Quotes
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The first cause worked automatically like a somnambulist, and not reflectively like a sage.
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If a path to the better there be, it begins with a full look at the worst.
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You could sometimes see her twelfth year in her cheeks, or her ninth sparkling from her eyes; and even her fifth would flit over the curves of her mouth now and then.
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I shall do one thing in this life-one thing certain-this is, love you, and long of you, and keep wanting you till I die.
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A woman would rather visit her own grave than the place where she has been young and beautiful after she is aged and ugly.
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Yes; quaint and curious war is! You shoot a fellow down you'd treat if met where any bar is, or help to half-a-crown.
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Remember that the best and greatest among mankind are those who do themselves no worldly good. Every successful man is more or less a selfish man. The devoted fail.
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And yet to every bad there is a worse.
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The perfect woman, you see is a working-woman; not an idler; not a fine lady; but one who uses her hands and her head and her heart for the good of others.
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The sky was clear - remarkably clear - and the twinkling of all the stars seemed to be but throbs of one body, timed by a common pulse.
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I have felt lately, more and more, that my present way of living is bad in every respect.
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Everybody is so talented nowadays that the only people I care to honor as deserving real distinction are those who remain in obscurity.
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I wish I had never been born--there or anywhere else.
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- the ethereal, fine-nerved, sensitive girl, quite unfitted by temperament and instinct to fulfil the conditions of the matrimonial relation with Phillotson, possibly with scarce any man.
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Bless thy simplicity, Tess
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Indifference to fate which, though it often makes a villain of a man, is the basis of his sublimity when it does not.
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Done because we are too many.
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That it would always be summer and autumn, and you always courting me, and always thinking as much of me as you have done through the past summertime!
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You have never loved me as I love you--never--never! Yours is not a passionate heart--your heart does not burn in a flame! You are, upon the whole, a sort of fay, or sprite-- not a woman!
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Did it never strike your mind that what every woman says, some women may feel?
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Teach me to live, that I may dread The grave as little as my bed. Teach me to die.
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To dwellers in a wood, almost every species of tree has its voice as well as its feature.
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Once let a maiden admit the possibility of her being stricken with love for some one at a certain hour and place, and the thing is as good as done.
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That aspects are within us; and who seems Most kingly is the King.