George Eliot
@georgeeliotsays.bsky.social
The mysterious complexity of our life is not to be embraced by maxims.
5 Dec. ‘59
I shall go on writing from my inward promptings — writing what I love and believe, what I feel to be true and good, if I can only render it worthily — and then leave all the rest to take its chance.
I shall go on writing from my inward promptings — writing what I love and believe, what I feel to be true and good, if I can only render it worthily — and then leave all the rest to take its chance.
December 5, 2025 at 5:37 PM
5 Dec. ‘59
I shall go on writing from my inward promptings — writing what I love and believe, what I feel to be true and good, if I can only render it worthily — and then leave all the rest to take its chance.
I shall go on writing from my inward promptings — writing what I love and believe, what I feel to be true and good, if I can only render it worthily — and then leave all the rest to take its chance.
As if he left his head empty for the devil to dance in.
December 4, 2025 at 5:23 PM
As if he left his head empty for the devil to dance in.
Give me a three-legged stool, and it will call up associations — moral, poetical, mathematical — if I do but ask it.
December 4, 2025 at 3:02 AM
Give me a three-legged stool, and it will call up associations — moral, poetical, mathematical — if I do but ask it.
Has anyone ever pinched into its pilulous smallness the cobweb of pre-matrimonial acquaintanceship?
December 3, 2025 at 5:40 PM
Has anyone ever pinched into its pilulous smallness the cobweb of pre-matrimonial acquaintanceship?
What! leave the opera with my part ill-sung
While I was warbling in a drawing-room?
Sing in the chimney-corner to inspire
My husband reading news? Let the world hear
My music only in his morning speech
Less stammering than most honourable men's?
No!
While I was warbling in a drawing-room?
Sing in the chimney-corner to inspire
My husband reading news? Let the world hear
My music only in his morning speech
Less stammering than most honourable men's?
No!
December 2, 2025 at 5:50 PM
What! leave the opera with my part ill-sung
While I was warbling in a drawing-room?
Sing in the chimney-corner to inspire
My husband reading news? Let the world hear
My music only in his morning speech
Less stammering than most honourable men's?
No!
While I was warbling in a drawing-room?
Sing in the chimney-corner to inspire
My husband reading news? Let the world hear
My music only in his morning speech
Less stammering than most honourable men's?
No!
How should all the apparatus of heaven and earth / make poetry for a mind that had no movements of awe and tenderness, no sense of fellowship which thrills from the near to the distant, and back again from the distant to the near?
December 1, 2025 at 7:11 PM
How should all the apparatus of heaven and earth / make poetry for a mind that had no movements of awe and tenderness, no sense of fellowship which thrills from the near to the distant, and back again from the distant to the near?
Cold, is it, my darling? Bless your sweet face!
November 30, 2025 at 6:13 PM
Cold, is it, my darling? Bless your sweet face!
But I should like Tom to be a bit of a scholard, so as he might be up to the tricks o’ these fellows as talk fine and write with a flourish.
November 29, 2025 at 9:05 PM
But I should like Tom to be a bit of a scholard, so as he might be up to the tricks o’ these fellows as talk fine and write with a flourish.
History, we know, is apt to repeat herself, and to foist very old incidents upon us with only a slight change of costume.
November 29, 2025 at 7:02 PM
History, we know, is apt to repeat herself, and to foist very old incidents upon us with only a slight change of costume.
Catherine having so high a standard as to have refused Lord Slogan.
November 28, 2025 at 4:14 PM
Catherine having so high a standard as to have refused Lord Slogan.
She was clever with that sort of cleverness which catches every tone except the humorous. Happily she never attempted to joke, and this perhaps was the most decisive mark of her cleverness.
November 27, 2025 at 2:35 PM
She was clever with that sort of cleverness which catches every tone except the humorous. Happily she never attempted to joke, and this perhaps was the most decisive mark of her cleverness.
Nettle-seed needs no digging.
November 26, 2025 at 4:05 PM
Nettle-seed needs no digging.
My pork-pies don’t turn out well by chance.
November 26, 2025 at 3:53 AM
My pork-pies don’t turn out well by chance.
The sight of you revives the taste of that super-excellent pork-pie.
November 26, 2025 at 3:52 AM
The sight of you revives the taste of that super-excellent pork-pie.
Nobody loses by sending me a porkpie, for my pies are fit to show with the best o’ my neighbors’.
November 26, 2025 at 3:50 AM
Nobody loses by sending me a porkpie, for my pies are fit to show with the best o’ my neighbors’.
In opposition to most people who love to read Shakspeare I like to see his plays acted better than any others: his great tragedies thrill me, let them be acted how they may.
November 25, 2025 at 3:48 PM
In opposition to most people who love to read Shakspeare I like to see his plays acted better than any others: his great tragedies thrill me, let them be acted how they may.
The bond was not an intellectual one; it came from a source that can happily blend the stupid with the brilliant.
November 24, 2025 at 3:47 PM
The bond was not an intellectual one; it came from a source that can happily blend the stupid with the brilliant.
Somehow, one is apt to read in a make-shift attitude, just where it might seem inconvenient to do so.
November 23, 2025 at 5:06 PM
Somehow, one is apt to read in a make-shift attitude, just where it might seem inconvenient to do so.
Just been t' hev a pint.
November 22, 2025 at 4:58 PM
Just been t' hev a pint.
Babies can't choose their own horoscopes.
November 21, 2025 at 6:30 PM
Babies can't choose their own horoscopes.
It is a dreadful thing to make an idiot fond of you, when you yourself are not of an affectionate disposition: especially an idiot with a pitchfork—obviously a difficult friend to shake off by rough usage.
November 20, 2025 at 4:05 PM
It is a dreadful thing to make an idiot fond of you, when you yourself are not of an affectionate disposition: especially an idiot with a pitchfork—obviously a difficult friend to shake off by rough usage.
All very well to ride on sticks at home and call them ideas.
November 19, 2025 at 11:23 PM
All very well to ride on sticks at home and call them ideas.
Surely that is a strange perversion into which men's minds have been led by long and various causes—to think that unless life can be made perfect, unless the prospects of humanity can be made to appear the very best, strong moral motives are gone!
November 19, 2025 at 4:51 PM
Surely that is a strange perversion into which men's minds have been led by long and various causes—to think that unless life can be made perfect, unless the prospects of humanity can be made to appear the very best, strong moral motives are gone!
From all we can gather, the votes are rather on the side of "The Mill" as a better book than “Adam.”
November 18, 2025 at 3:54 PM
From all we can gather, the votes are rather on the side of "The Mill" as a better book than “Adam.”
How will you know the pitch of that great bell
Too large for you to stir? Let but a flute
Play 'neath the fine-mixed metal: listen close
Till the right note flows forth, a silvery rill:
Too large for you to stir? Let but a flute
Play 'neath the fine-mixed metal: listen close
Till the right note flows forth, a silvery rill:
November 17, 2025 at 3:37 PM
How will you know the pitch of that great bell
Too large for you to stir? Let but a flute
Play 'neath the fine-mixed metal: listen close
Till the right note flows forth, a silvery rill:
Too large for you to stir? Let but a flute
Play 'neath the fine-mixed metal: listen close
Till the right note flows forth, a silvery rill: