Emotions really exist at the bottom of the personality or at the top. in the middle they are acted. This is why all the world is a stage.
IRIS MURDOCHOne of the secrets of a happy life is continuous small treats, and if some of these can be inexpensive and quickly procured so much the better.
More Iris Murdoch Quotes
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The most essential and fundamental aspect of culture is the study of literature, since this is an education in how to picture and understand human situations.
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Of course reading and thinking are important but, my God, food is important too.
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How different each death is, and yet it leads us into the self-same country, that country which we inhabit so rarely, where we see the worthlessness of what we have long pursued and will so soon return to pursuing.
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What I needed with all my starved and silent soul was just that particular way of shouting back at the world.
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Love is the Extremely difficult realization that something other than oneself is real.
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Jealousy is the most dreadfully involuntary of all sins.
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One of the secrets of a happy life is continous small treats.
IRIS MURDOCH -
We can only learn to love by loving.
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I feel half faded away like some figure in the background of an old picture.
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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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One of the secrets of a happy life is continuous small treats, and if some of these can be inexpensive and quickly procured so much the better.
IRIS MURDOCH -
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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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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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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The absolute yearning of one human body for another particular body and its indifference to substitutes is one of life’s major mysteries.
IRIS MURDOCH