Quotes

She and Stephen were in that stage of courtship which makes the most exquisite moment of youth, the freshest blossom-time of passion,--when each is sure of the other's love, but no formal declaration has been made, and all is mutual divination, exalting the most trivial word, the lightest gesture, into thrills delicate and delicious as wafted jasmine scent. ~ The Mill on the Floss by George Eliot "But I can't give up wishing," said Philip, impatiently. "It seems to me we can never give up longing and wishing while we are thoroughly alive. There are certain things we feel to be beautiful and good, and we must hunger after them. How can we ever be satisfied without them until our feelings are deadened?" ~ The Mill on the Floss by George Eliot "If I got places, sir, it was because I made myself fit for 'em. If you want to slip into a round hole, you must make a ball of yourself; that's where it is." ~ The Mill on the Floss by George Eliot If boys and men are to be welded together in the glow of transient feeling, they must be made of metal that will mix, else they inevitably fall asunder when the heat dies out. ~ The Mill on the Floss by George Eliot War, like other dramatic spectacles, might possibly cease for want of a "public." ~ The Mill on the Floss by George Eliot Perhaps it is that high achievements demand some other unusual qualification besides an unusual desire for high prizes. ~ The Mill on the Floss by George Eliot There was no gleam, no shadow, for the heavens, too, were one still, pale cloud; no sound or motion in anything but the dark river that flowed and moaned like an unresting sorrow. ~ The Mill on the Floss by George Eliot If a man means to be hard, let him keep in his saddle and speak from that height, above the level of pleading eyes, and with the command of a distant horizon. ~ The Mill on the Floss by George Eliot We could never have loved the earth so well if we had had no childhood in it. ~ The Mill on the Floss by George Eliot These bitter sorrows of childhood! when sorrow is all new and strange, when hope has not yet got wings to fly beyond the days and weeks, and the space from summer to summer seems measureless. ~ The Mill on the Floss by George Eliot