When we are treated well, we naturally begin to think that we are not altogether unmeritous, and that it is only just we should treat ourselves well, and not mar our own good fortune.
George EliotTags: good-fortune
Fate has carried me
'Mid the thick arrows: I will keep my stand--
Not shrink and let the shaft pass by my breast
To pierce another.
Family likeness has often a deep sadness in it. Nature, that great tragic dramatist, knits us together by bone and muscle, and divides us by the subtler web of our brains; blends yearning and repulsion; and ties us by our heart-strings to the beings that jar us at every movement.
George EliotTags: parenthood generation-gap
Timid people always reek their peevishness on the gentle.
George EliotMy life is too short, and God’s work is too great for me to think of making a home for myself in this world.
George EliotTags: discipleship
Bodily haste and exertion usually leave our thoughts very much at the mercy of our feelings and imagination.
George EliotTags: emotions depression anxiety fatigue
He was one of those men, and they are not the commonest, of whom we can know the best only by following them away from the marketplace, the platform, and the pulpit, entering with them into their own homes, hearing the voice with which they speak to the young and aged about their own hearthstone, and witnessing their thoughtful care for the everyday wants of everyday companions, who take all their kindness as a matter of course, and not as a subject for panegyric.
George EliotTags: humility relationships lifestyle habits
When God makes His presence felt through us, we are like the burning bush: Moses never took any heed what sort of bush it was—he only saw the brightness of the Lord.
George EliotTags: glory-of-god
When a homemaking aunt scolds a niece for following her evangelistic passion instead of domestic pursuits, her reply is interesting. First, she clarifies that God's individual call on her doesn't condemn those in more conventional roles. Then, she says she can no more ignore the cry of the lost than her aunt can the cry of her child.
George EliotTags: calling evangelism
She had forgotten his faults as we forget
the sorrows of our departed childhood.
Tags: nostalgia
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