Impatient people, according to Bacon, are like the bees, and kill themselves in stinging others.
GEORGE ELIOT“Abroad,” that large home of ruined reputations.
More George Eliot Quotes
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There is a great deal of unmapped country within us which would have to be taken into account in an explanation of our gusts and storms.
GEORGE ELIOT -
One must be poor to know the luxury of giving!
GEORGE ELIOT -
When death, the great reconciler, has come, it is never our tenderness that we repent of, but our severity.
GEORGE ELIOT -
Trouble’s made us kin.
GEORGE ELIOT -
Religious ideas have the fate of melodies, which, once set afloat in the world, are taken up by all sorts of instruments, some of them woefully coarse, feeble, or out of tune, until people are in danger of crying out that the melody itself is detestable.
GEORGE ELIOT -
The world is full of hopeful analogies and handsome, dubious eggs, called possibilities.
GEORGE ELIOT -
No story is the same to us after a lapse of time; or rather we who read it are no longer the same interpreters.
GEORGE ELIOT -
The golden moments in the stream of life rush past us, and we see nothing but sand; the angels come to visit us, and we only know them when they are gone.
GEORGE ELIOT -
My own experience and development deepen every day my conviction that our moral progress may be measured by the degree in which we sympathize with individual suffering and individual joy.
GEORGE ELIOT -
Her little butterfly soul fluttered incessantly between memory and dubious expectation.
GEORGE ELIOT -
It will never rain roses: when we want to have more roses we must plant more trees.
GEORGE ELIOT -
Appearances have very little to do with happiness.
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She was no longer wrestling with the grief, but could sit down with it as a lasting companion and make it a sharer in her thoughts.
GEORGE ELIOT -
The darkest night that ever fell upon the earth never hid the light, never put out the stars. It only made the stars more keenly, kindly glancing, as if in protest against the darkness.
GEORGE ELIOT -
Our dead are never dead to us, until we have forgotten them.
GEORGE ELIOT