Quote

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.

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
Free
Taint
Voice
Suns
Song
Salute
Spirit
Rejoice
Giving
Sun
Personality
Pure
Millions
Salutes

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I expect Woman will be the last thing civilized by Man.
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Around the ancient track marched, rank on rank, The army of unalterable law.
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Behold the life at ease it drifts, The sharpened life commands its course.
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The sun is coming down to earth, and the fields and the waters shout to him golden shouts.
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Jealousy is love bed of burning snarl.
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The future not being born, my friend, we will abstain from baptizing it.
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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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Always imitate the behaviour of the winners when you lose.
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What a woman thinks of women is the test of her nature.
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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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The well of true wit is truth itself.
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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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That rarest gift to Beauty, Common Sense!
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Who rises from prayer a better man, his prayer is answered.
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Comedy is a game played to throw reflections upon social life, and it deals with human nature in the drawing-room of civilized men and women, where we have no dust of the struggling outer world, no mire, no violent crashes, to make the correctness of the representation convincing.
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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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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 witty woman is a treasure a witty beauty is a power.
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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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