“I do love you surely in a better way than he does.” He thought. “Yes—really in a better way. I want you to have your own thoughts even when I hold you in my arms.” ~ A Room With A View by E. M. Forster
Love is a flower that grows in any soil, works its sweet miracles undaunted by autumn frost or winter snow, blooming fair and fragrant all the year, and blessing those who give and those who receive. ~ Little Men by Louisa May Alcott
Maggie said that love was the flower of life, and blossomed unexpectedly and without law, and must be plucked where it was found, and enjoyed for the brief hour of its duration. ~ The Rainbow by D. H. Lawrence
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? ~ Adam Bede by George Eliot
Love, it is said, is blind, but love is not blind. It is an extra eye, which shows us what is most worthy of regard. To see the best is to see most clearly, and it is the lover’s privilege. ~ The Little Minister by James M. Barrie
“I loved you madly; in the distasteful work of the day, in the wakeful misery of the night, girded by sordid realities, or wandering through Paradises and Hells of visions into which I rushed, carrying your image in my arms, I loved you madly.” ~ The Mystery of Edwin Drood by Charles Dickens
He knew that when he kissed this girl, and forever wed his unutterable visions to her perishable breath, his mind would never romp again like the mind of God. So he waited, listening for a moment longer to the tuning fork that had been struck upon a star. Then he kissed her. At his lips’ touch she blossomed for him like a flower and the incarnation was complete. ~ The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald
Love is no hot-house flower, but a wild plant, born of a wet night, born of an hour of sunshine; sprung from wild seed, blown along the road by a wild wind. A wild plant that, when it blooms by chance within the hedge of our gardens, we call a flower; and when it blooms outside we call a weed; but, flower or weed, whose scent and colour are always, wild! ~ The Forsyte Saga by John Galsworthy
She lifted her face to him, and he bent forward and kissed her on the mouth, gently, with the one kiss that is an eternal pledge. And as he kissed her his heart strained again in his breast. He never intended to love her. But now it was over. He had crossed over the gulf to her, and all that he had left behind had shrivelled and become void. ~ The Horse Dealer’s Daughter by D. H. Lawrence
“Men always want to be a woman’s first love. That is their clumsy vanity. We women have a more subtle instinct about things. What we like is to be a man’s last romance.” ~ A Woman of No Importance by Oscar Wilde
“He’s more myself than I am. Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same, and Linton’s is as different as a moonbeam from lightning, or frost from fire.” ~ Wuthering Heights by Emily Bronte
“Those who speak of love most promiscuously are the ones who’ve never felt it. They make some sort of feeble stew out of sympathy, compassion, contempt and general indifference, and they call it love. Once you’ve felt what it means to love as you and I know it–the total passion for the total height–you’re incapable of anything less.” ~ The Fountainhead by Ayn Rand
Ready for more? See our entire love quote collection.
Edward Morgan Forster, known as E. M. Forster, was an English writer. His best known works include A Room with a View, Howards End and A Passage to India.
- Forster was born on January 1, 1879. Sadly, his father died of tuberculosis in 1880. Forster was raised by his mother and his paternal aunts.
- Forster inherited a great deal of money from a paternal aunt who passed away in 1887.
- In the 1930s and 1940s Forster was a broadcaster on BBC Radio
- Forster died of a stroke on June 7, 1970 in Coventry. He was 91.
- Maurice was published posthumously. Its homosexual themes caused some controversy as Forster’s sexual preferences weren’t widely known previously.
Novels by E. M. Forster
Where Angels Fear to Tread (1905)
The Longest Journey (1907)
A Room with a View (1908)
Howards End (1910)
A Passage to India (1924)
Maurice (written in 1913–14, published posthumously in 1971)
More About E. M. Forster
Fifty new quotes were added to the site today. All of our quotes list an author and a source. We’re proud that this quotation collection is curated by people and NOT by a computer program.
Here are some quotes from the new additions.
“A man’s fate is his own temper; and according to that will be his opinion as to the particular manner in which the course of events is regulated. A consistent man believes in Destiny, a capricious man in Chance.” ~ Vivian Grey by Benjamin Disraeli