Our dead are never dead to us, until we have forgotten them. – George Eliot
Death is the king of this world: Tis his park where he breeds life to feed him. Cries of pain are music for his banquet. – George Eliot
Our dead are never dead to us, until we have forgotten them. – George Eliot
Death is the king of this world: Tis his park where he breeds life to feed him. Cries of pain are music for his banquet. – George Eliot
Marriage must be a relation either of sympathy or of conquest. – George Eliot
Sympathetic people often dont communicate well, they back reflected images which hide their own depths. – George Eliot