Quotes from George Eliot

He seemed to weave, like the spider, from pure impulse, without reflection. Every man's work, pursued steadily, tends in this way to become an end in itself, and so to bridge over the loveless chasms of his life.

It is for art to present images of a lovelier order than the actual, gently winning the affections, and so determining the taste.

I shall be glad of a cup of coffee as soon as possible.

Can't you tell me? said Celia, setting her arms cozily. No, dear, you would have to feel it with me, else you would never know.

With his taper stuck before him he forgot the absence of windows, and in bitter manuscript remarks on other men's notions about the solar deities, he had become indifferent to the sunlight.

Shallow natures dream of an easy sway over the emotions of others, trusting implicitly in their own petty magic to turn the deepest streams, and confidant, by pretty gestures and remarks, of making the thing that is not there as though it were.

Do you suppose the public reads with a view to its own conversion?

Speculative truth begins to appear but a shadow of individual minds, agreement between intellects seems unattainable, and we turn to the truth of feeling as the only universal bond of union.

We mortals, men and women, devour many a disappointment between breakfast and dinner-time; keep back the tears and look a little pale about the lips, and in answer to inquiries say, Oh, nothing! Pride helps us; and pride is not a bad thing when it only urges us to hide our own hurts--not to hurt others.

They said of old the Soul had human shape, But smaller, subtler than the fleshly self, So wandered forth for airing when it pleased.

I suppose it was that in courtship everything is regarded as provisional and preliminary, and the smallest sample of virtue or accomplishment is taken to guarantee delightful stores which the broad leisure of marriage will reveal. But the doorsill of marriage once crossed, expectation is concentrated on the present.

For religion can only change when the emotions which fill it are changed;and the religion of personal fear remains nearly at the level of the savage.

What do we live for, if not to make life less difficult to others?

Ships, certainly, are liable to casualties, which sometimes make terribly evident some flaw in their construction that would never have been discoverable in smooth water; and many a "good fellow," through a disastrous combination of circumstances, has undergone a like betrayal.

We prepare ourselves for sudden deeds by the reiterated choice of good or evil which gradually determines character.

Having made this rather lofty comparison I am less uneasy in calling attention to the existence of low people by whose interference, however little we may like it, the course of the world is very much determined. It

his father was in the law:—most exemplary and honest nevertheless, which is a reason for our never being rich.

Did ever a ghost give a man a black eye? That's what I should like to know. If ghos'es want me to believe in 'em, let 'em leave off skulking i' the dark and i' lone places–let 'em come where there's company and candles.

It was too intolerable that Dorothea should be worshipping this husband: such weakness in a woman is pleasant to no man but the husband in question. Mortals are easily tempted to pinch the life out of their neighbour's buzzing glory, and think that such killing is no murder.

The best horse will win in spite of pedigree, my boy. You remember Napoleon's mot—Je suis un ancêtre said Sir Hugo, who habitually undervalued birth, as men after dining well often agree that the good of life is distributed with wonderful equality.

Mrs. Bulstrode's naïve way of conciliating piety and worldliness, the nothingness of this life and desirability of cut glass, the consciousness at once of filthy rags and the best damask...

Until that wretched yesterday—except the moment of vexation long ago in the very same room and in the very same presence—all their vision, all their thought of each other, had been as in a world apart, where the sunshine fell on tall white lilies, where no evil lurked, and no other soul entered. But now—would Dorothea meet him in that world again?

Many of us looking back through life would say that the kindest man we have ever known has been a medical man, or perhaps that surgeon whose fine tact, directed by deeply informed perception, has come to us in our need with a more sublime beneficence than that of miracle-workers

What is your religion?" said Dorothea. "I mean—not what you know about religion, but the belief that helps you most?" "To love what is good and beautiful when I see it," said Will.