Quote

He wished she knew his impressions but he would as soon have thought of carrying an odour in a net as of attempting to convey the intangibilities of his feeling in the coarse meshes of language. So he remained silent.

Thomas Hardy

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Thomas Hardy
Age: 87 †
Born: 1840
Born: June 2
Died: 1928
Died: January 28
Novelist
Poet
Screenwriter
Writer
Dorchester
Dorset
Would
Impression
Mesh
Silent
Coarse
Soon
Impressions
Knew
Convey
Feeling
Remained
Language
Wished
Feelings
Attempting
Meshes
Thought
Carrying
Odour

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So each had a private little sun for her soul to bask in some dream, some affection, some hobby, or at least some remote and distant hope.
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My weakness has always been to prefer the large intention of an unskilful artist to the trivial intention of an accomplished one: in other words, I am more interested in the high ideas of a feeble executant than in the high execution of a feeble thinker.
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Their position was perhaps the happiest of all positions in the social scale, being above the line at which neediness ends, and below the line at which the convenances begin to cramp natural feeling, and the stress of threadbare modishness makes too little of enough.
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Of course poets have morals and manners of their own, and custom is no argument with them.
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Some women's love of being loved is insatiable and so, often, is their love of loving and in the last case they may find that they can't give it continuously to the chamber-officer appointed by the bishop's license to receive it.
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Ladies know what to guard against, because they read novels that tell them of these tricks.
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All romances end at marriage.
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If a path to the better there be, it begins with a full look at the worst.
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Did you say the stars were worlds, Tess? Yes. All like ours? I don't know, but I think so. They sometimes seem to be like the apples on our stubbard-tree. Most of them splendid and sound - a few blighted. Which do we live on - a splendid one or a blighted one? A blighted one.
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We ought to have lived in mental communion, and no more.
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Teach me to live, that I may dread The grave as little as my bed. Teach me to die.
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A blaze of love and extinction, was better than a lantern glimmer of the same which should last long years.
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Always wanting another man than your own.
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Sometimes a woman's love of being loved gets the better of her conscience, and though she is agonized at the thought of treating a man cruelly, she encourages him to love her while she doesn't love him at all. Then, when she sees him suffering, her remorse sets in, and she does what she can to repair the wrong.
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It was the touch of the imperfect upon the would-be perfect that gave the sweetness, because it was that which gave the humanity
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Black chaos comes, and the fettered gods of the earth say, Let there be light.
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You could sometimes see her twelfth year in her cheeks, or her ninth sparkling from her eyes and even her fifth would flit over the curves of her mouth now and then.
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War makes good history but peace is poor reading.
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Men thin away to insignificance and oblivion quite as often by not making the most of good spirits when they have them as by lacking good spirits when they are indispensable.
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There are accents in the eye which are not on the tongue, and more tales come from pale lips than can enter an ear. It is both the grandeur and the pain of the remoter moods that they avoid the pathway of sound.
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