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
To have in general but little feeling, seems to be the only security against feeling too much on any particular occasion. – George Eliot
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? – George Eliot
For what we call illusions are often, in truth, a wider vision of past and present realities –a willing movement of a mans soul with the larger sweep of the worlds forces –a movement towards a more assured end than the chances of a single life. – George Eliot