I just enjoy translating, it’s like opening one’s mouth and hearing someone else’s voice emerge.
IRIS MURDOCHOur actions are like ships which we may watch set out to sea, and not know when or with what cargo they will return to port.
More Iris Murdoch Quotes
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We defend ourselves with descriptions and tame the world by generalizing.
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We are all the judges and the judged, victims of the casual malice and fantasy of others, and ready sources of fantasy and malice in our turn. And if we are sometimes accused of sins of which we are innocent, are there not also other sins of which we are guilty and of which the world knows nothing?
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Only take someone’s hand in a certain way, even look into their eyes in a certain way, and the world is changed forever.
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Time, like the sea, unties all knots.
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Perhaps when distant people on other planets pick up some wavelength of ours all they hear is a continuous scream.
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One of the secrets of a happy life is continous small treats.
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Love is the extremely difficult realization that something other than oneself is real.
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I feel half faded away like some figure in the background of an old picture.
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I feel I’m at the end of something – everything is going to be different – and terrible.
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Every persisting marriage is based on fear’, said Peregrine. ‘Fear is fundamental, you dig down in human nature and what’s at the bottom? Mean spiteful cruel self-regarding fear, whether it makes you to put the foot in it or whether it makes you to cower.
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People have obsessions and fears and passions which they don’t admit to. I think every character is interesting and has extremes. It’s the novelist privilege to see how odd everyone is.
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I took a deep breath, however, and followed my rule of never speaking frankly to women in moments of emotion. No good ever comes of this.
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Freedom may be a value in politics, but it is not a value in morals.
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This sort of quiet gazing, which was like a feeding of the heart.
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To lose somebody is to lose not only their person but all those modes and manifestations into which their person has flowed outwards; so that in losing a beloved one may find so many things, pictures, poems, melodies, places lost too: Dante, Avignon, a song of Shakespeare’s, the Cornish sea.
IRIS MURDOCH