Spoon feeding in the long run teaches us nothing but the shape of the spoon.
E. M. FORSTERShe 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.
More E. M. Forster Quotes
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Don’t be mysterious; there isn’t the time.
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People have their own deaths as well as their own lives, and even if there is nothing beyond death, we shall differ in our nothingness.
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I distrust Great Men. They produce a desert of uniformity around them and often a pool of blood too, and I always feel a little man’s pleasure when they come a cropper.
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I would rather be a coward than brave because people hurt you when you are brave.
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So I shan’t ever marry, for there aren’t such men. And Heaven help any one whom I do marry, for I shall certainly run away from him before you can say ‘Jack Robinson.
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She stopped and leant her elbows against the parapet of the embankment. He did likewise. There is at times a magic in identity of position; it is one of the things that have suggested to us eternal comradeship.
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My conviction gains infinitely the moment another soul will believe in it.
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Death destroys a man, but the idea of death saves him.
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You can transmute love, ignore it, muddle it, but you can never pull it out of you.
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Inside its cocoon of work or social obligation, the human spirit slumbers for the most part, registering the distinction between pleasure and pain, but not nearly as alert as we pretend.
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For it is a serious thing to have been watched. We all radiate something curiously intimate when we believe ourselves to be alone.
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The emotions may be endless. The more we express them, the more we may have to express.
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What is wonderful about great literature is that it transforms the man who reads it towards the condition of the man who wrote.
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The main facts in human life are five: birth, food, sleep, love and death.
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Railway termini are our gates to the glorious and the unknown
E. M. FORSTER