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.
E. M. FORSTERAt night, when the curtains are drawn and the fire flickers, my books attain a collective dignity.
More E. M. Forster Quotes
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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.
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Have you ever noticed that there are people who do things which are most indelicate, and yet at the same time – beautiful?
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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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A poem is true if it hangs together. Information points to something else. A poem points to nothing but itself.
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One always tends to overpraise a long book, because one has got through it.
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If we act the truth the people who really love us are sure to come back to us in the long run
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One person with passion is better than forty people merely interested.
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One has two duties – to be worried and not to be worried.
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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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Unless we remember we cannot understand.
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What is the good of your stars and trees, your sunrise and the wind, if they do not enter into our daily lives?
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I would rather be a coward than brave because people hurt you when you are brave.
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How can I know what I think till I see what I say?
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How can I know what I think till I see what I say?
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Let yourself go. Pull out from the depths those thoughts that you do not understand, and spread them out in the sunlight and know the meaning of them.
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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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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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I believe we shall come to care about people less and less, Helen. The more people one knows, the easier it becomes to replace them. It’s one of the curses of London. I quite expect to end my life caring most for a place.
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It was pleasant, too, to fling wide the windows, pinching the fingers in unfamiliar fastenings, to lean out into sunshine with beautiful hills and trees and marble churches opposite, and, close below, Arno, gurgling against the embankment of the road.
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There are periods in the most thrilling day during which nothing happens, and though we continue to exclaim, “I do enjoy myself”, or , “I am horrified,” we are insincere.
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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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You confuse what’s important with what’s impressive.
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I am sure that if the mothers of various nations could meet, there would be no more wars.
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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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I believe in teaching people to be individuals, and to understand other individuals.
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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.
E. M. FORSTER