Impatient people, according to Bacon, are like the bees, and kill themselves in stinging others.
GEORGE ELIOT“Heaven help us,” said the old religion; the new one, from its very lack of that faith, will teach us all the more to help one another.
More George Eliot Quotes
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“Abroad,” that large home of ruined reputations.
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I desire no future that will break the ties of the past.
GEORGE ELIOT -
Jews are not fit for Heaven, but on earth they are most useful.
GEORGE ELIOT -
Justice is like the kingdom of God–it is not without us as a fact, it is within us as a great yearning.
GEORGE ELIOT -
I carry my unwritten poems in cipher on my face!
GEORGE ELIOT -
It is as useless to fight against the interpretations of ignorance as to whip the fog.
GEORGE ELIOT -
Life is too precious to be spent in this weaving and unweaving of false impressions, and it is better to live quietly under some degree of misrepresentation than to attempt to remove it by the uncertain process of letter-writing.
GEORGE ELIOT -
People are so ridiculous with their illusions, carrying their fool’s caps unawares, thinking their own lies opaque while everybody else’s are transparent, making themselves exceptions to everything, as if when all the world looked yellow under a lamp they alone are rosy.
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Consequences are unpitying.
GEORGE ELIOT -
What loneliness is more lonely than distrust?
GEORGE ELIOT -
It seems to me we can never give up longing and wishing while we are thoroughly alive. There are certain things we feel to be beautiful and good, and we must hunger after them.
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Her little butterfly soul fluttered incessantly between memory and dubious expectation.
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The important work of moving the world forward does not wait to be done by perfect men.
GEORGE ELIOT -
The years between fifty and seventy are the hardest. You are always being asked to do things, and yet you are not decrepit enough to turn them down.
GEORGE ELIOT -
I like breakfast-time better than any other moment in the day. No dust has settled on one’s mind then, and it presents a clear mirror to the rays of things.
GEORGE ELIOT