What greater thing is there for two human souls than to feel that they are joined – to strengthen each other – to be at one with each other in silent unspeakable memories.
GEORGE ELIOTIn bed our yesterdays are too oppressive: if a man can only get up, though it be but to whistle or to smoke, he has a present which offers some resistance to the past-sensations which assert themselves against tyrannous memories.
More George Eliot Quotes
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I think I dislike what I don’t like more than I like what I like.
GEORGE ELIOT -
It is a common sentence that knowledge is power; but who hath duly considered or set forth the power of ignorance? Knowledge slowly builds up what ignorance in an hour pulls down.
GEORGE ELIOT -
In bed our yesterdays are too oppressive: if a man can only get up, though it be but to whistle or to smoke, he has a present which offers some resistance to the past-sensations which assert themselves against tyrannous memories.
GEORGE ELIOT -
Decide on what you think is right, and stick to it.
GEORGE ELIOT -
In travelling I shape myself betimes to idleness And take fools’ pleasure
GEORGE ELIOT -
It’s never too late to be who you were meant to be.
GEORGE ELIOT -
Life began with waking up and loving my mother’s face.
GEORGE ELIOT -
Every limit is a beginning as well as an ending.
GEORGE ELIOT -
It is hard to believe long together that anything is “worth while,” unless there is some eye to kindle in common with our own, some brief word uttered now and then to imply that what is infinitely precious to us is precious alike to another mind.
GEORGE ELIOT -
The responsibility of tolerance lies with those who have the wider vision.
GEORGE ELIOT -
But what we call our despair is often only the painful eagerness of unfed hope.
GEORGE ELIOT -
Of new acquaintances one can never be sure because one likes them one day that it will be so the next. Of old friends one is sure that it will be the same yesterday, today, and forever.
GEORGE ELIOT -
Delicious autumn! My very soul is wedded to it.
GEORGE ELIOT -
Religious ideas have the fate of melodies, which, once set afloat in the world, are taken up by all sorts of instruments, some of them woefully coarse, feeble, or out of tune, until people are in danger of crying out that the melody itself is detestable.
GEORGE ELIOT -
The golden moments in the stream of life rush past us, and we see nothing but sand; the angels come to visit us, and we only know them when they are gone.
GEORGE ELIOT






