Death is the king of this world: ‘Tis his park where he breeds life to feed him. Cries of pain are music for his banquet.
GEORGE ELIOT… it is one thing to like defiance, and another thing to like its consequences.
More George Eliot Quotes
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What loneliness is more lonely than distrust?
GEORGE ELIOT -
What greater thing is there for two human souls than to feel that they are joined – to strengthen each other – to be at one with each other in silent unspeakable memories.
GEORGE ELIOT -
Our deeds still travel with us from afar, and what we have been makes us what we are.
GEORGE ELIOT -
Conscientious people are apt to see their duty in that which is the most painful course.
GEORGE ELIOT -
Adventure is not outside man; it is within.
GEORGE ELIOT -
We have had an unspeakably delightful journey, one of those journeys which seem to divide one’s life in two, by the new ideas they suggest and the new views of interest they open.
GEORGE ELIOT -
Appearances have very little to do with happiness.
GEORGE ELIOT -
Marriage must be a relation either of sympathy or of conquest.
GEORGE ELIOT -
What a wretched lot of old shrivelled creatures we shall be by-and-by. Never mind – the uglier we get in the eyes of others, the lovelier we shall be to each other; that has always been my firm faith about friendship.
GEORGE ELIOT -
To have suffered much is like knowing many languages. Thou hast learned to understand all.
GEORGE ELIOT -
The best travel is that which one can take by one’s own fireside. In memory or imagination.
GEORGE ELIOT -
Joy and sorrow are both my perpetual companions, but the joy is called Past and the sorrow Present.
GEORGE ELIOT -
Our deeds determine us, as much as we determine our deeds.
GEORGE ELIOT -
Love has a way of cheating itself consciously, like a child who plays at solitary hide-and-seek; it is pleased with assurances that it all the while disbelieves.
GEORGE ELIOT -
Rome – the city of visible history, where the past of a whole hemisphere seems moving in funeral procession with strange ancestral images and trophies gathered from afar.
GEORGE ELIOT