A poem is true if it hangs together. Information points to something else. A poem points to nothing but itself.
E. M. FORSTEROne person with passion is better than forty people merely interested.
More E. M. Forster Quotes
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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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I think you’re beautiful, the only beautiful person I’ve ever seen. I love your voice and everything to do with you, down to your clothes or the room you are sitting in. I adore you.
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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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I won’t be protected. I will choose for myself what is ladylike and right. To shield me is an insult.
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Adventures do occur, but not punctually.
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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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She had been so wicked that in all her life she had done only one good deed-given an onion to a beggar. So she went to hell. As she lay in torment she saw the onion, lowered down from heaven by an angel. She caught hold of it. He began to pull her up.
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Let yourself go. Pull out from the depths those thoughts that you do not understand, and spread them out in the sunlight and know the meaning of them.
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I can only do what’s easy. I can only entice and be enticed. I can’t, and won’t, attempt difficult relations. If I marry it will either be a man who’s strong enough to boss me or whom I’m strong enough to boss.
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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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Sometimes I think too much fuss is made about marriage. Century after century of carnal embracement and we’re still no nearer to understanding one another.
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The historian records, but the novelist creates.
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Life is sometimes life and sometimes only a drama, and one must learn to distinguish t’other from which . . .
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The king died and then the queen died is a story. The king died, and then queen died of grief is a plot.
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Human relations are impossible. When they are real they are uncomfortable, and when they are comfortable they are unreal. It was for the journey into solitude that the human soul was created.
E. M. FORSTER