We have had an unspeakably delightful journey, one of those journeys which seem to divide one’s life in two, by the new ideas they suggest and the new views of interest they open.
GEORGE ELIOTJoy and sorrow are both my perpetual companions, but the joy is called Past and the sorrow Present.
More George Eliot Quotes
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Those who trust us educate us.
GEORGE ELIOT -
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 ELIOT -
Conscientious people are apt to see their duty in that which is the most painful course.
GEORGE ELIOT -
Life is too precious to be spent in this weaving and unweaving of false impressions, and it is better to live quietly under some degree of misrepresentation than to attempt to remove it by the uncertain process of letter-writing.
GEORGE ELIOT -
Marriage must be a relation either of sympathy or of conquest.
GEORGE ELIOT -
Every limit is a beginning as well as an ending.
GEORGE ELIOT -
Delicious autumn! My very soul is wedded to it, and if I were a bird I would fly about the earth seeking the successive autumns.
GEORGE ELIOT -
Life seems to go on without effort when I am filled with music.
GEORGE ELIOT -
It is never too late to become the person you always thought you could be.
GEORGE ELIOT -
There is hardly any contact more depressing to a young ardent creature than that of a mind in which years full of knowledge seem to have issued in a blank absence of interest or sympathy.
GEORGE ELIOT -
Genius … is necessarily intolerant of fetters.
GEORGE ELIOT -
Joy and sorrow are both my perpetual companions, but the joy is called Past and the sorrow Present.
GEORGE ELIOT -
The strongest principle of growth lies in the human choice.
GEORGE ELIOT -
People are so ridiculous with their illusions, carrying their fool’s caps unawares, thinking their own lies opaque while everybody else’s are transparent, making themselves exceptions to everything, as if when all the world looked yellow under a lamp they alone are rosy.
GEORGE ELIOT -
Our dead are never dead to us, until we have forgotten them.
GEORGE ELIOT