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The stench of the trail of Ego in our History. It is ego - ego, the fountain cry, origin, sole source of war.
George Meredith
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George Meredith
Age: 81 †
Born: 1828
Born: February 12
Died: 1909
Died: May 18
Novelist
Poet
Prosaist
Writer
Portsmouth
England
Sole
Ego
Cry
Stench
Source
Trail
War
Trails
History
Fountain
Origin
Patriotism
More quotes by George Meredith
Caricature is rough truth.
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Earth, the mother of all, Moves on her stedfast way, Gathering, flinging, sowing. Mortals, we live in her day, She in her children is growing.
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When I was quite a boy I had a spasm of religion which lasted six weeks... But I never since have swallowed the Christian fable.
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A human act once set in motion flows on forever to the great account. Our deathlessness is in what we do, not in what we are.
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It's past parsons to console us: No, nor no doctor fetch for me: I can die without my bolus Two of a trade, lass, never agree! Parson and Doctor!--don't they love rarely Fighting the devil in other men's fields! Stand up yourself and match him fairly: Then see how the rascal yields!
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Faith works miracles. At least it allows time for them.
George Meredith
The future not being born, my friend, we will abstain from baptizing it.
George Meredith
Could I find a place to be alone with heaven, I would speak my heart out heaven is my need.
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A house with a great wine stored below lives in our imagination as a joyful house, fast and splendidly rooted in the soil.
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Behold the life at ease it drifts, The sharpened life commands its course.
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The man of science is nothing if not a poet gone wrong.
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Among the Diaries beginning with the second quarter of our century, there is frequent mention of a lady then becoming famous for her beauty and her wit: an unusual combination, in the deliberate syllables of one of the writers, who is, however, not disposed to personal irony when speaking of her.
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God's rarest blessing is, after all, a good woman!
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Published memoirs indicate the end of a man's activity, and that he acknowledges the end.
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There is nothing the body suffers which the soul may not profit by.
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How many a thing which we cast to the ground, When others pick it up, becomes a gem!
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I expect Woman will be the last thing civilized by Man.
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Friendship, I fancy, means one heart between two.
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The most dire disaster in love is the death of imagination.
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Around the ancient track marched, rank on rank, The army of unalterable law.
George Meredith