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I am feeling easy now, and you will well understand that after undergoing pain this ease is opening paradise. Invalids must be excused for being eloquent about themselves.

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
Feeling
Pain
Invalids
Understand
Excused
Easy
Undergoing
Feelings
Eloquent
Wells
Paradise
Well
Ease
Must
Opening

More quotes by George Eliot

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Most of us who turn to any subject we love remember some morning or evening hour when we got on a high stool to reach down an untried volume, or sat with parted lips listening to a new talker, or for very lack of books began to listen to the voices within, as the first traceable beginning of our love.
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Little children are still the symbol of the eternal marriage between love and duty.
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But that intimacy of mutual embarrassment, in which each feels that the other is feeling something, having once existed, its effect is not to be done away with.
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The presence of a noble nature, generous in its wishes, ardent in its charity, changes the lights for us: we begin to see things again in their larger, quieter masses, and to believe that we too can be seen and judged in the wholeness of our character.
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Can any man or woman choose duties? No more than they can choose their birthplace or their father and mother.
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The worst service, I fancy, that anyone can do for truth, is to set silly people writing on its behalf.
George Eliot
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Don't let us rejoice in punishment, even when the hand of God alone inflicts it. The best of us are but poor wretches, just saved from shipwreck. Can we feel anything but awe and pity when we see a fellow-passenger swallowed by the waves?
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It is always good to know, if only in passing, charming human beings. It refreshes one like flowers and woods and clear brooks.
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Oh may I join the choir invisible Of those immortal dead who live again In minds made better by their presence.
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A woman mixed of such fine elements That were all virtue and religion dead She'd make them newly, being what she was.
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O may I join the choir invisible of those immortal dead who live again in minds made better by their presence live in pulses stirred to generosity, in deeds of daring rectitude, in scorn for miserable aims that end with self, in thoughts sublime that pierce the night like stars, and with their mild persistence urge men's search to vaster issues.
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Men and women are but children of a larger growth.
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Everybody liked better to conjecture how the thing was, than simply to know it for conjecture soon became more confident than knowledge, and had a more liberal allowance for the incompatible.
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Falsehood is easy, truth so difficult.
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To know intense joy without a strong bodily frame, one must have an enthusiastic soul.
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I don't mind how many letters I receive from one who interests me as much as you do. The receptive part of correspondence I can carry on with much alacrity. It is writing answers that I groan over.
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We must find our duties in what comes to us, not in what might have been.
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Hold up your head! You were not made for failure, you were made for victory. Go forward with a joyful confidence.
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Oh, the comfort, the inexpressible comfort of feeling safe with a person having neither to weigh thoughts nor measure words, but to pour them all out, just as they are, chaff and grain together, knowing that a faithful hand will take and sift them, keep what is worth keeping, and then, with a breath of kindness, blow the rest away.
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We look at the one little woman's face we love, as we look at the face of our mother earth, and see all sorts of answers to our own yearnings.
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