The kingdom of music is not the kingdom of this world.
E. M. FORSTERIt 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.
More E. M. Forster Quotes
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There is an aristocracy of the sensitive. They represent the true human tradition of permanent victory over cruelty and chaos.
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The historian records, but the novelist creates.
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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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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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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.
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But Humanity, in its desire for comfort, had over-reached itself. It had exploited the riches of nature too far. Quietly and complacently, it was sinking into decadence, and progress had come to mean the progress of the Machine.
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Love is a great force in private life; it is indeed the greatest of all things; but love in public affairs does not work.
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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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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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Life is a public performance on the violin, in which you must learn the instrument as you go along.
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The main facts in human life are five: birth, food, sleep, love and death.
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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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School 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.
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The king died and then the queen died is a story. The king died, and then queen died of grief is a plot.
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A poem is true if it hangs together. Information points to something else. A poem points to nothing but itself.
E. M. FORSTER