Our 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.
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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Of course this chattering diary is a facade, the literary equivalent of the everyday smiling face which hides the inward ravages of jealousy, remorse, fear and the consciousness of irretrievable moral failure. Yet such pretenses are not only consolations but may even be productive of a little ersatz courage.
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Jealousy is perhaps the most involuntary of all strong emotions. It steals consciousness, it lies deeper than thought. It is always there, like a blackness in the eye, it discolours the world.
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One should go easy on smashing other people’s lies. Better to concentrate on one’s own.
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The bicycle is the most civilized conveyance known to man. Other forms of transport grow daily more nightmarish. Only the bicycle remains pure in 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.
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Bereavement is a darkness impenetrable to the imagination of the unbereaved.
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Writing is like getting married. One should never commit oneself until one is amazed at one’s luck.
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There is a gulf fixed between those who can sleep and those who cannot. It is one of the greatest divisions of the human race.
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In philosophy if you aren’t moving at a snail’s pace you aren’t moving at all.
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So we live; a spirit that broods and hovers over the continual death of time, the lost meaning, the unrecaptured moment, the unremembered face, until the final chop that ends all our moments and plunges that spirit back into the void from which it came.
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We live in a fantasy world, a world of illusion. The great task in life is to find reality says Iris Murdoch. But given the state of the world, is it wise?
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The talk of lovers who have just declared their love is one of life’s most sweet delights. Each vies with the other in humility, in amazement at being so valued. The past is searched for the first signs and each one is in haste to declare all that he is so that no part of his being escapes the hallowing touch.
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People from a planet without flowers would think we must be mad with joy the whole time to have such things about us.
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Violence is born of the desire to escape oneself.
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That doesn’t sound like you, you ride every wave. There is one that will drown me
IRIS MURDOCH