I cannot help thinking that there is something to admire in everyone, even if you do not approve of them.
E.M. ForsterThose who prepare for all the emergencies of life beforehand may equip themsleves at the expense of joy.
E.M. ForsterOnly connect!
E.M. ForsterTo attribute these two great developments to the Central Committee, is to take a very narrow view of civilization. The Central Committee announced the developments, it is true, but they were no more the cause of them than were the kings of the imperialistic period the cause of war.
E.M. ForsterStichwörter: dystopia
Of all means to regeneration, Remorse is surely the most wasteful.
E.M. ForsterI won't be protected. I will choose for myself what is ladylike and right. To shield me is an insult.
E.M. ForsterStichwörter: women
Margaret could not reply. Was he incredibly stupid, or did he understand her better than she understood herself?
E.M. ForsterI suggest that the only books that influence us are those for which we are ready, and which have gone a little further down our particular path than we have yet gone ourselves.
E.M. ForsterStichwörter: books literature self-discovery
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If Miss Honeychurch ever takes to live as she plays, it will be very exciting--both for us and for her.
E.M. ForsterThey wept for humanity, those two, not for themselves. They could not bear that this should be the end. Ere silence was completed their hearts were opened, and they knew what had been important on the earth. Man, the flower of all flesh, the noblest of all creatures visible, man who had once made god in his image, and had mirrored his strength on the constellations, beautiful naked man was dying, strangled in the garments that he had woven. Century after century had he toiled, and here was his reward. Truly the garment had seemed heavenly at first, shot with colours of culture, sewn with the threads of self-denial. And heavenly it had been so long as man could shed it at will and live by the essence that is his soul, and the essence, equally divine, that is his body. The sin against the body - it was for that they wept in chief; the centuries of wrong against the muscles and the nerves, and those five portals by which we can alone apprehend - glozing it over with talk of evolution, until the body was white pap, the home of ideas as colourless, last sloshy stirrings of a spirit that had grasped the stars.
E.M. ForsterStichwörter: dystopian visionary
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