Do we find happiness so often that we should turn it off the box when it happens to sit there?
E. M. FORSTERThe final test for a novel will be our affection for it, as it is the test of our friends, and of anything else which we cannot define.
More E. M. Forster Quotes
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The kingdom of music is not the kingdom of this world; it will accept those whom breeding and intellect and culture have alike rejected.
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One of the evils of money is that it tempts us to look at it rather than at the things that it buys.
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Love is a great force in private life; it is indeed the greatest of all things; but love in public affairs does not work.
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Science is better than sympathy, if only it is science.
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Have you ever noticed that there are people who do things which are most indelicate, and yet at the same time – beautiful?
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Works of art, in my opinion, are the only objects in the material universe to possess internal order, and that is why, though I don’t believe that only art matters, I do believe in Art for Art’s sake.
E. M. FORSTER -
We cast a shadow on something wherever we stand, and it is no good moving from place to place to save things; because the shadow always follows. Choose a place where you won’t do harm – yes, choose a place where you won’t do very much harm, and stand in it for all you are worth, facing the sunshine.
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The armour of falsehood is subtly wrought out of darkness, and hides a man not only from others, but from his own soul.
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At night, when the curtains are drawn and the fire flickers, my books attain a collective dignity.
E. M. FORSTER -
It was pleasant, too, to fling wide the windows, pinching the fingers in unfamiliar fastenings, to lean out into sunshine with beautiful hills and trees and marble churches opposite, and, close below, Arno, gurgling against the embankment of the road.
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You can transmute love, ignore it, muddle it, but you can never pull it out of you.
E. M. FORSTER -
Adventures do occur, but not punctually.
E. M. FORSTER -
It isn’t possible to love and part. You will wish that it was. You can transmute love, ignore it, muddle it, but you can never pull it out of you. I know by experience that the poets are right: love is eternal.
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But it struck him that people are not really dead until they are felt to be dead. As long as there is some misunderstanding about them, they possess a sort of immortality.
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But Humanity, in its desire for comfort, had over-reached itself. It had exploited the riches of nature too far. Quietly and complacently, it was sinking into decadence, and progress had come to mean the progress of the Machine.
E. M. FORSTER