You can transmute love, ignore it, muddle it, but you can never pull it out of you.
E. M. FORSTERSchool was the unhappiest time of my life and the worst trick it ever played on me was to pretend that it was the world in miniature. For it hindered me from discovering how lovely and delightful and kind the world can be, and how much of it is intelligible.
More E. M. Forster Quotes
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Think before you speak is criticism’s motto; speak before you think, creation’s.
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You confuse what’s important with what’s impressive.
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But the body is deeper than the soul and its secrets inscrutable.
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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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One grows accustomed to being praised, or being blamed, or being advised, but it is unusual to be understood.
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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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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 historian records, but the novelist creates.
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Works of art, in my opinion, are the only objects in the material universe to possess internal order, and that is why, though I don’t believe that only art matters, I do believe in Art for Art’s sake.
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We cast a shadow on something wherever we stand.
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It isn’t possible to love and to part.
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It was pleasant to wake up in Florence, to open the eyes upon a bright bare room, with a floor of red tiles which look clean though they are not; with a painted ceiling whereon pink griffins and blue amorini sport in a forest of yellow violins and bassoons.
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There are moments when the inner life actually ‘pays,’ when years of self-scrutiny, conducted for no ulterior motive, are suddenly of practical use.
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It is easy to sympathize at a distance,’ said an old gentleman with a beard. ‘I value more the kind word that is spoken close to my ear.
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Most of life is so dull that there is nothing to be said about it, and the books and talks that would describe it as interesting are obliged to exaggerate, in the hope of justifying their own existence.
E. M. FORSTER