I felt a deep grief that crouched and stayed still as if it was afraid to move.
IRIS MURDOCHThe 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.
More Iris Murdoch Quotes
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We can only learn to love by loving.
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 feel I’m at the end of something – everything is going to be different – and terrible.
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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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Love doesn’t think like that. All right, it’s blind as a bat- Bats have radar. Yours doesnt seem to be working.
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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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Her eyes, which refused to meet mine, had the defensive coldness of those who are determined to lose hope.
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Art and psychoanalisis give shape and meaning to life and that’s why we adore them. However, life as it is lived has no shape nor meaning, and that’s what I am experiencing right now.
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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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One should go easy on smashing other people’s lies. Better to concentrate on one’s own.
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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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Time, like the sea, unties all knots.
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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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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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We defend ourselves with descriptions and tame the world by generalizing.
IRIS MURDOCH