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.
IRIS MURDOCHWhite magic is black magic. A less than perfect meddling in the spiritual world can breed monsters for other people, and demons used for good can hang around and make mischief afterwards.
More Iris Murdoch Quotes
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Every book is the wreck of a perfect idea.
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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.
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For most of us, for almost all of us, truth can be attained, if at all, only in silence. It is in silence that the human spirit touches the divine.
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Love is the Extremely difficult realization that something other than oneself is real.
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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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I think being a woman is like being Irish, Everyone says you’re important and nice, but you take second place all the time.
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Hegel says that Truth is a great word and the thing is greater still. With Dave we never seemed to get past the word.
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The theatre is certainly a place for learning about the brevity of human glory: oh all those wonderful glittering absolutely vanished pantomime! Now I shall abjure magic and become a hermit : put myself in a situation where I can honestly say that I have nothing else to do but to learn to be good.
IRIS MURDOCH -
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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I don’t think I can marry, I’m not fit for it, I’m not real enough. That’s the trouble. I’m a puppet that’s realised what’s wrong with itself and it’s horrible. I’m propped up somewhere all alone, watching the real people go past. I’m propped up crying in a corner.
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What a test that is: more than devotion, admiration, passion. If you long and long for someone’s company you love them.
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Between saying and doing, many a pair of shoes is worn out.
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Anything that consoles is fake.
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Let us not waste love, it is rare enough.
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That doesn’t sound like you, you ride every wave. There is one that will drown me
IRIS MURDOCH