Deep, unspeakable suffering may well be called a baptism, a regeneration, the initiation into a new state.
from the book "" by George Eliot
Deep, unspeakable suffering may well be called a baptism, a regeneration, the initiation into a new state.
Imagination is a licensed trespasser: it has no fear of dogs, but may climb over walls and peep in at windows with impunity.
But veracity is a plant of paradise, and the seeds have never flourished beyond the walls.
An election is coming. Universal peace is declared, and the foxes have a sincere interest in prolonging the lives of the poultry.
"I like breakfast-time better than any other moment in the day," said Mr. Irwine. "No dust has settled on one's mind then, and it presents a clear mirror to the rays of things".
Men's lives are as thoroughly blended with each other as the air they breathe: evil spreads as necessarily as disease.
It is well known to all experienced minds that our firmest convictions are often dependent on subtle impressions for which words are quite too coarse a medium.
Falsehood is so easy, truth so difficult.
How is it that the poets have said so many fine things about our first love, so few about our later love? Are their first poems their best? Or are not those the best which come from their fuller thought, their larger experience, their deeper-rooted affections?
His mind was destitute of that dread which has been erroneously decried as if it were nothing higher than a man's animal care for his own skin: that awe of the Divine Nemesis which was felt by religious pagans, and, though it took a more positive form under Christianity, is still felt by the mass of mankind simply as a vague fear at anything which is called wrong-doing. Such terror of the unseen is so far above mere sensual cowardice that it will annihilate that cowardice: it is the initial recognition of a moral law restraining desire, and checks the hard bold scrutiny of imperfect thought into obligations which can never be proved to have any sanctity in the abscence of feeling.