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She was but a transient impression, half forgotten.

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
Forgotten
Half
Transient
Impression

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Let me enjoy the earth no less because the all-enacting light that fashioned forth its loveliness had other aims than my delight.
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If Galileo had said in verse that the world moved, the inquisition might have let him alone.
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Everybody is so talented nowadays that the only people I care to honor as deserving real distinction are those who remain in obscurity.
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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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Always wanting another man than your own.
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There is always an inertia to be overcome in striking out a new line of conduct – not more in ourselves, it seems, than in circumscribing events, which appear as if leagued together to allow no novelties in the way of amelioration.
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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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You, and those like you, take your fill of pleasure on earth by making the life of such as me bitter and black with sorrow and then it is a fine thing, when you have had enough of that, to think of securing your pleasure in heaven by becoming converted!
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Where we are would be Paradise to me, if you would only make it so.
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War makes good history but peace is poor reading.
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The sudden disappointment of a hope leaves a scar which the ultimate fulfillment of that hope never entirely removes.
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This hobble of being alive is rather serious, don’t you think so?
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Bless thy simplicity, Tess
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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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A lover without indiscretion is no lover at all.
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So do flux and reflux--the rhythm of change--alternate and persist in everything under the sky.
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Women are so strange in their influence that they tempt you to misplaced kindness.
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Done because we are too many.
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Black chaos comes, and the fettered gods of the earth say, Let there be light.
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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.
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