If I had to choose between betraying my country and betraying my friend, I hope I should have the guts to betray my country.
E. M. FORSTERThough life is very glorious, it is difficult.
More E. M. Forster Quotes
-
-
Do we find happiness so often that we should turn it off the box when it happens to sit there?
E. M. FORSTER -
Don’t be mysterious; there isn’t the time.
E. M. FORSTER -
It isn’t possible to love and part. You will wish that it was. You can transmute love, ignore it, muddle it, but you can never pull it out of you. I know by experience that the poets are right: love is eternal.
E. M. FORSTER -
What is the good of your stars and trees, your sunrise and the wind, if they do not enter into our daily lives?
E. M. FORSTER -
At night, when the curtains are drawn and the fire flickers, my books attain a collective dignity.
E. M. FORSTER -
Human relations are impossible. When they are real they are uncomfortable, and when they are comfortable they are unreal. It was for the journey into solitude that the human soul was created.
E. M. FORSTER -
Nonsense and beauty have close connections.
E. M. FORSTER -
A poem is true if it hangs together. Information points to something else. A poem points to nothing but itself.
E. M. FORSTER -
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.
E. M. FORSTER -
The other damned saw what was happening and caught hold of it too. She was indignant and cried, “Let go-it’s my onion,” and as soon as she said, “my onion,” the stalk broke and she fell back into the flames.
E. M. FORSTER -
It isn’t possible to love and to part.
E. M. FORSTER -
Only a writer who has the sense of evil can make goodness readable.
E. M. FORSTER -
… there are shadows because there are hills.
E. M. FORSTER -
The kingdom of music is not the kingdom of this world; it will accept those whom breeding and intellect and culture have alike rejected.
E. M. FORSTER -
The armour of falsehood is subtly wrought out of darkness, and hides a man not only from others, but from his own soul.
E. M. FORSTER