People who live at a distance are naturally less faulty than those immediately under our own eyes.
GEORGE ELIOTI like not only to be loved, but also to be told I am loved.
More George Eliot Quotes
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Examining the world in order to find consolation is very much like looking carefully over the pages of a great book in order to find our own name . … Whether we find what we want or not, our preoccupation has hindered us from a true knowledge of the contents.
GEORGE ELIOT -
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 -
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 -
It is painful to be told that anything is very fine and not be able to feel that it is fine–something like being blind, while people talk of the sky.
GEORGE ELIOT -
If you deliver an opinion at all, it is mere stupidity not to do it with an air of conviction and well-founded knowledge. You make it your own in uttering it, and naturally get fond of it.
GEORGE ELIOT -
To manage men one ought to have a sharp mind in a velvet sheath.
GEORGE ELIOT -
Vague memories hang about the mind like cobwebs.
GEORGE ELIOT -
The important work of moving the world forward does not wait to be done by perfect men.
GEORGE ELIOT -
I carry my unwritten poems in cipher on my face!
GEORGE ELIOT -
An ass may bray a good while before he shakes the stars down.
GEORGE ELIOT -
Appearances have very little to do with happiness.
GEORGE ELIOT -
I like not only to be loved, but also to be told that I am loved. I am not sure that you are of the same mind. But the realm of silence is large enough beyond the grave. This is the world of light and speech, and I shall take leave to tell you that you are very dear.
GEORGE ELIOT -
Enveloped in a common mist, we seem to walk in clearness ourselves, and behold only the mist that enshrouds others.
GEORGE ELIOT -
When God makes His presence felt through us, we are like the burning bush: Moses never took any heed what sort of bush it was—he only saw the brightness of the Lord.
GEORGE ELIOT -
Her little butterfly soul fluttered incessantly between memory and dubious expectation.
GEORGE ELIOT