Veracity is a plant of paradise, and the seeds have never flourished beyond the walls.
GEORGE ELIOTHold up your head! You were not made for failure, you were made for victory. Go forward with a joyful confidence.
More George Eliot Quotes
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The responsibility of tolerance lies with those who have the wider vision.
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The thing we look forward to often comes to pass, but never precisely in the way we have imagined to ourselves.
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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 -
We must find our duties in what comes to us, not in what might have been.
GEORGE ELIOT -
Character is not cut in marble – it is not something solid and unalterable. It is something living and changing, and may become diseased as our bodies do.
GEORGE ELIOT -
Our dead are never dead to us, until we have forgotten them.
GEORGE ELIOT -
There is no despair so absolute as that which comes with the first moments of our first great sorrow, when we have not yet known what it is to have suffered and be healed, to have despaired and have recovered hope.
GEORGE ELIOT -
Hold up your head! You were not made for failure, you were made for victory. Go forward with a joyful confidence.
GEORGE ELIOT -
There is a great deal of unmapped country within us.
GEORGE ELIOT -
What destroys us most effectively is not a malign fate but our own capacity for self-deception and for degrading our own best self.
GEORGE ELIOT -
Life began with waking up and loving my mother’s face.
GEORGE ELIOT -
It is hard to believe long together that anything is “worth while,” unless there is some eye to kindle in common with our own, some brief word uttered now and then to imply that what is infinitely precious to us is precious alike to another mind.
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Joy and sorrow are both my perpetual companions, but the joy is called Past and the sorrow Present.
GEORGE ELIOT -
I carry my unwritten poems in cipher on my face!
GEORGE ELIOT -
There is hardly any contact more depressing to a young ardent creature than that of a mind in which years full of knowledge seem to have issued in a blank absence of interest or sympathy.
GEORGE ELIOT






