Rome – the city of visible history, where the past of a whole hemisphere seems moving in funeral procession with strange ancestral images and trophies gathered from afar.
GEORGE ELIOTConscience is harder than our enemies, Knows more, accuses with more nicety.
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 -
I like not only to be loved, but to be told that I am loved; the realm of silence is large enough beyond the grave.
GEORGE ELIOT -
The right to rebellion is the right to seek a higher rule, and not to wander in mere lawlessness.
GEORGE ELIOT -
What a wretched lot of old shrivelled creatures we shall be by-and-by. Never mind – the uglier we get in the eyes of others, the lovelier we shall be to each other; that has always been my firm faith about friendship.
GEORGE ELIOT -
There is a great deal of unmapped country within us which would have to be taken into account in an explanation of our gusts and storms.
GEORGE ELIOT -
The responsibility of tolerance lies with those who have the wider vision.
GEORGE ELIOT -
Enveloped in a common mist, we seem to walk in clearness ourselves, and behold only the mist that enshrouds others.
GEORGE ELIOT -
The world is full of hopeful analogies and handsome, dubious eggs, called possibilities.
GEORGE ELIOT -
Trouble’s made us kin.
GEORGE ELIOT -
One must be poor to know the luxury of giving!
GEORGE ELIOT -
Veracity is a plant of paradise, and the seeds have never flourished beyond the walls.
GEORGE ELIOT -
I like not only to be loved, but also to be told I am loved.
GEORGE ELIOT -
It is as useless to fight against the interpretations of ignorance as to whip the fog.
GEORGE ELIOT -
Quarrel? Nonsense; we have not quarreled. If one is not to get into a rage sometimes, what is the good of being friends?
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






