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.
E. M. FORSTERHuman 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.
More E. M. Forster Quotes
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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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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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The final test for a novel will be our affection for it, as it is the test of our friends, and of anything else which we cannot define.
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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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If I had to choose between betraying my country and betraying my friend, I hope I should have the guts to betray my country.
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One of the evils of money is that it tempts us to look at it rather than at the things that it buys.
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We must be willing to let go of the life we have planned, so as to have the life that is waiting for us.
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I cannot help thinking that there is something to admire in everyone, even if you do not approve of them.
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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.
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You confuse what’s important with what’s impressive.
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The kingdom of music is not the kingdom of this world; it will accept those whom breeding and intellect and culture have alike rejected.
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The armour of falsehood is subtly wrought out of darkness, and hides a man not only from others, but from his own soul.
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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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The only books that influence us are those for which we are ready, and which have gone a little farther down our particular path than we have yet got ourselves.
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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.
E. M. FORSTER