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What a woman thinks of women is the test of her nature.

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
Thinks
Woman
Nature
Women
Thinking
Test
Tests

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Published memoirs indicate the end of a man's activity, and that he acknowledges the end.
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That rarest gift to Beauty, Common Sense!
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Heiresses are never jilted.
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My religion of life is always to be cheerful.
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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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We are betrayed by what is false within
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There is nothing the body suffers which the soul may not profit by.
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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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Jealousy is love bed of burning snarl.
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Possession without obligation to the object possessed approaches felicity.
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Caricature is rough truth.
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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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The future not being born, my friend, we will abstain from baptizing it.
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She [Comedy] it is who proposes the correcting of pretentiousness, of inflation, of dulness, and of the vestiges of rawness and grossness to be found among us. She is the ultimate civilizer, the polisher, a sweet cook.
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See ye not, Courtesy is the true Alchemy, turning to gold all it touches and tries?
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Around the ancient track marched, rank on rank, The army of unalterable law.
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Could I find a place to be alone with heaven, I would speak my heart out heaven is my need.
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Always imitate the behaviour of the winners when you lose.
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Days, when the ball of our vision Had eagles that flew unabashed to sun When the graps on the bow was decision, And arrow and hand and eye were one When the Pleasures, like waves to a swimmer, Came heaving for rapture ahead! - Invoke them, they dwindle, they glimmer As lights over mounds of the dead.
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The song seraphically free Of taint of personality, So pure that it salutes the suns The voice of one for millions, In whom the millions rejoice For giving their one spirit voice.
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