Quote

Oh, sir, the loftiest hopes on earth Draw lots with meaner hopes: heroic breasts, Breathing bad air, run risk of pestilence Or, lacking lime-juice when they cross the Line, May languish with the scurvy.

George Eliot

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George Eliot
Age: 61 †
Born: 1819
Born: November 22
Died: 1880
Died: December 22
Editor
Essayist
Journalist
Novelist
Philosopher
Poet
Translator
Writer
Mary Anne Evans
Mary Ann Evans
Marian Evans
Mary Anne Evans Cross
Mary Anne Cross
May
Crosses
Lacking
Scurvy
Draws
Breasts
Loftiest
Air
Heroic
Meaner
Line
Hopes
Lime
Risk
Breathing
Limes
Lines
Lots
Languish
Running
Draw
Pestilence
Earth
Cross
Juice

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There's times when the crockery seems alive, an' flies out o' your hand like a bird. It's like the glass, sometimes, 'ull crack as it stands. What is to be broke will be broke.
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Satan was a blunderer ... who made a stupendous failure. If he had succeeded, we should all have been worshipping him, and his portrait would have been more flattering.
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When the animals entered the Ark in pairs, one may imagine that allied species made much private remark on each other, and were tempted to think that so many forms feeding on the same store of fodder were eminently superfluous, as tending to diminish the rations.
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Our consciences are not all of the same pattern.
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He who rules must fully humor as much as he commands.
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The mind that is too ready at contempt and reprobation is, I may say, as a clenched fist that can give blows, but is shut up from receiving and holding ought that is precious.
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But faithfulness can feed on suffering, And knows no disappointment.
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In the vain laughter of folly wisdom hears half its applause.
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Family likeness has often a deep sadness in it. Nature, that great tragic dramatist, knits us together by bone and muscle, and divides us by the subtler web of our brains blends yearning and repulsion and ties us by our heart-strings to the beings that jar us at every movement.
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Nature repairs her ravages, but not all. The uptorn trees are not rooted again the parted hills are left scarred if there is a new growth, the trees are not the same as the old, and the hills underneath their green vesture bear the marks of the past rending. To the eyes that have dwelt on the past, there is no thorough repair.
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There is no short-cut no patent tram-road, to wisdom. After all the centuries of invention, the soul's path lies through the thorny wilderness which must still be trodden in solitude, with bleeding feet, with sobs for help, as it was trodden by them of old time.
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When we are suddenly released from an acute absorbing bodily pain, our heart and senses leap out in new freedom we think even the noise of streets harmonious, and are ready to hug the tradesman who is wrapping up our change.
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I like not only to be loved, but also to be told that I am loved. I am not sure that you are of the same mind. But the realm of silence is large enough beyond the grave. This is the world of light and speech, and I shall take leave to tell you that you are very dear.
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The human soul is hospitable, and will entertain conflicting sentiments and contradictory opinions with much impartiality.
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In poor Rosamond's mind there was not room enough for luxuries to look small in.
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To have in general but little feeling, seems to be the only security against feeling too much on any particular occasion.
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There is heroism even in the circles of hell for fellow-sinners who cling to each other in the fiery whirlwind and never recriminate.
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People glorify all sorts of bravery except the bravery they might show on behalf of their nearest neighbors.
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Brothers are so unpleasant.
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When God makes His presence felt through us, we are like the burning bush: Moses never took any heed what sort of bush it was—he only saw the brightness of the Lord.
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