Our dead are never dead to us, until we have forgotten them. – George Eliot
His honest, patronizing pride in the good-will and respect of everybody about him was a safeguard even against foolish romance, still more against a lower kind of folly. – George Eliot
The golden moments in the stream of life rush past us and we see nothing but sand; the angels come to visit us, and we only know them when theyre gone. – George Eliot
For what is love itself, for the one we love best? An enfolding of immeasurable cares which yet are better than any joys outside our love. – George Eliot