Will not a tiny speck very close to our vision blot out the glory of the world, and leave only a margin by which we see the blot? I know no speck so troublesome as self.
GEORGE ELIOTVeracity is a plant of paradise, and the seeds have never flourished beyond the walls.
More George Eliot Quotes
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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 -
Delicious autumn! My very soul is wedded to it.
GEORGE ELIOT -
Trouble’s made us kin.
GEORGE ELIOT -
There are many victories worse than a defeat.
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 -
Human feeling is like the mighty rivers that bless the earth: it does not wait for beauty – it flows with resistless force and brings beauty with it.
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 -
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 -
There is no killing the suspicion that deceit has once begotten.
GEORGE ELIOT -
Any coward can fight a battle when he’s sure of winning.
GEORGE ELIOT -
Consequences are unpitying.
GEORGE ELIOT -
One has to spend many years in learning how to be happy.
GEORGE ELIOT -
After all, the true seeing is within.
GEORGE ELIOT -
Of new acquaintances one can never be sure because one likes them one day that it will be so the next. Of old friends one is sure that it will be the same yesterday, today, and forever.
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