In philosophy if you aren’t moving at a snail’s pace you aren’t moving at all.
IRIS MURDOCHLove is the extremely difficult realization that something other than oneself is real.
More Iris Murdoch Quotes
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We need a moral philosophy which can speak significantly of Freud and Marx and out of which aesthetic and political views can be generated. We need a moral philosophy in which the concept of love, so rarely mentioned now, can once again be made central.
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What I needed with all my starved and silent soul was just that particular way of shouting back at the world.
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I don’t think I can marry, I’m not fit for it, I’m not real enough. That’s the trouble. I’m a puppet that’s realised what’s wrong with itself and it’s horrible. I’m propped up somewhere all alone, watching the real people go past. I’m propped up crying in a corner.
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Love doesn’t think like that. All right, it’s blind as a bat- Bats have radar. Yours doesnt seem to be working.
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There is no substitute for the comfort supplied by the utterly taken-for-granted relationship.
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Jealousy is the most dreadfully involuntary of all sins.
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How different each death is, and yet it leads us into the self-same country, that country which we inhabit so rarely, where we see the worthlessness of what we have long pursued and will so soon return to pursuing.
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One of the secrets of a happy life is continuous small treats, and if some of these can be inexpensive and quickly procured so much the better.
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The absolute yearning of one human body for another particular body and its indifference to substitutes is one of life’s major mysteries.
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There is a gulf fixed between those who can sleep and those who cannot. It is one of the greatest divisions of the human race.
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As we live our precarious lives on the brink of the void, constantly coming closer to a state of nonbeing, we are all too often aware of our fragitlity.
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Only take someone’s hand in a certain way, even look into their eyes in a certain way, and the world is changed forever.
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Every book is the wreck of a perfect idea.
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Love is the Extremely difficult realization that something other than oneself is real.
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Only the very greatest art invigorates without consoling.
IRIS MURDOCH