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.
E. M. FORSTERThe kingdom of music is not the kingdom of this world.
More E. M. Forster Quotes
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I have no mystic faith in the people. I have in the individual.
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How can I know what I think till I see what I say?
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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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You told me once that we shall be judged by our intentions, not by our accomplishments. I thought it a grand remark. But we must intend to accomplish – not sit intending on a chair.
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Don’t begin with proportion. Only prigs do that. Let proportion come in as a last resource, when the better things have failed.
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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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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 has two duties – to be worried and not to be worried.
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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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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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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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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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We move between two darknesses.
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We cast a shadow on something wherever we stand.
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When you come back you will not be you. And I may not be I.
E. M. FORSTER






