Цитаты из книги Middlemarch

Только тот, кто приобщился к радостям духовной жизни, способен понять, как печально скатиться с ее высот, облагороженных мыслью, полезной деятельностью, целью, — в трясину опустошающих душу житейских дрязг.

– Я подумала, не захотите ли вы взять миниатюру, что висит наверху… ту великолепную миниатюру, где изображена ваша бабушка. Если у вас есть желание ее иметь, мне кажется, я не вправе оставлять ее у себя. Она поразительно на вас похожа. – Вы очень любезны, – раздражительно ответил Уилл. – Нет, я не испытываю такого желания. Не так уж утешительно иметь при себе изображение, которое на тебя похоже. Гораздо утешительнее, если его хотят иметь другие.

...а если нам кажется, что он [человек] требует от нас слишком много внимания, то причина заключается просто в нашем нежелании вообще о нем думать

- Когда видишь совершенную женщину, не задумываешься о её отдельных свойствах... просто чувствуешь её присутствие.

Всякий рубеж — это не только конец, но и начало.

Вы, умники, вечно чушь городите. Как может она выбирать сама, если выбирать ей не из кого? Избранник женщины — это обычно единственный достижимый для нее мужчина.

"Oh, dear, because I have always loved him. I should never like scolding any one else so well; and that is a point to be thought of in a husband."

When immortal Bunyan makes his picture of the persecuting passions bringing in their verdict of guilty, who pities Faithful? That is a rare and blessed lot which some greatest men have not attained, to know ourselves guiltless before a condemning crowd—to be sure that what we are denounced for is solely the good in us.

Then came the hour in which the waves of suffering shook her too thoroughly to leave any power of thought.

Men and women make sad mistakes about their own symptoms, taking their vague uneasy longings, sometimes for genius, sometimes for religion, and oftener still for a mighty love.

...the eye of reason saw a probability of mental sustenance in the shape of gossip.

Expenditure—like ugliness and errors—becomes a totally new thing when we attach our own personality to it, and measure it by that wide difference which is manifest (in our own sensations) between ourselves and others.

Eighteen months ago Lydgate was poor, but had never known the eager want of small sums, and felt rather a burning contempt for any one who descended a step in order to gain them. He was now experiencing something worse than a simple deficit: he was assailed by the vulgar hateful trials of a man who has bought and used a great many things which might have been done without, and which he is unable to pay for, though the demand for payment has become pressing.

Between him and her indeed there was that total missing of each other's mental track, which is too evidently possible even between persons who are continually thinking of each other.

The Vicar did feel then as if his share of duties would be easy. But Duty has a trick of behaving unexpectedly - something like a heavy friend whom we have amiably asked to visit us, and who breaks his leg within our gates.

It is wonderful how much uglier things will look when we only suspect that we are blamed for them.

Will was not without his intentions to be always generous, but our tongues are little triggers which have usually been pulled before general intentions can be brought to bear.

There are many wonderful mixtures in the world which are all alike called love, and claim the privileges of a sublime rage which is an apology for everything (in literature and the drama).

"My mother is like old George the Third," said the Vicar, "she objects to metaphysics."

...one's self-satisfaction is an untaxed kind of property which it is very unpleasant to find deprecated.