George Eliot

What quarrel, what harshness, what unbelief in each other can subsist in the presence of a great calamity, when all read more

What quarrel, what harshness, what unbelief in each other can subsist in the presence of a great calamity, when all the artificial vesture of our life is gone, and we are all one with each other in primitive mortal needs?

It was not that she was out of temper, but that the world was not equal to the demands of read more

It was not that she was out of temper, but that the world was not equal to the demands of her fine organism.

But what we call our despair is often only the painful eagerness of unfed hope.

But what we call our despair is often only the painful eagerness of unfed hope.

What do we live for if it is not to make life less difficult to each other.

What do we live for if it is not to make life less difficult to each other.

Oh, the comfort, the inexpressible comfort of feeling safe with a person; having neither to weigh thoughts nor measure words, read more

Oh, the comfort, the inexpressible comfort of feeling safe with a person; having neither to weigh thoughts nor measure words, but to pour them all out, just as they are, chaff and grain together, knowing that a faithful hand will take and sift them, keep what is worth keeping, and then, with a breath of kindness, blow the rest away. -George Eliot.