You have never loved me as I love you–never–never! Yours is not a passionate heart–your heart does not burn in a flame! You are, upon the whole, a sort of fay, or sprite– not a woman!
THOMAS HARDYMeasurement of life should be proportioned rather to the intensity of the experience than to its actual length.
More Thomas Hardy Quotes
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The business of the poet and the novelist is to show the sorriness underlying the grandest things and the grandeur underlying the sorriest things.
THOMAS HARDY -
To dwellers in a wood, almost every species of tree has its voice as well as its feature.
THOMAS HARDY -
Happiness is but a mere episode in the general drama of pain.
THOMAS HARDY -
If a path to the better there be, it begins with a full look at the worst.
THOMAS HARDY -
Measurement of life should be proportioned rather to the intensity of the experience than to its actual length.
THOMAS HARDY -
But his dreams were as gigantic as his surroundings were small.
THOMAS HARDY -
Time changes everything except something within us which is always surprised by change.
THOMAS HARDY -
We colour and mould according to the wants within us whatever our eyes bring in.
THOMAS HARDY -
Some women’s love of being loved is insatiable; and so, often, is their love of loving; and in the last case they may find that they can’t give it continuously to the chamber-officer appointed by the bishop’s license to receive it.
THOMAS HARDY -
People go on marrying because they can’t resist natural forces, although many of them may know perfectly well that they are possibly buying a month’s pleasure with a life’s discomfort.
THOMAS HARDY -
The first cause worked automatically like a somnambulist, and not reflectively like a sage.
THOMAS HARDY -
Let not your heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid.
THOMAS HARDY -
Women are attracted to silent men. They believe they are listening.
THOMAS HARDY -
The perfect woman, you see [is] a working-woman; not an idler; not a fine lady; but one who [uses] her hands and her head and her heart for the good of others.
THOMAS HARDY -
It was the touch of the imperfect upon the would-be perfect that gave the sweetness, because it was that which gave the humanity.
THOMAS HARDY