If you had a table spread for a feast, and was making merry with your friends, you would think it was kind to let me come and sit down and rejoice with you, because you'd think I should like to share those good things; but I should like better to share in your trouble and your labour.

George Eliot

George Eliot

Profession: Author
Nationality: British

Some suggestions for you :

In our instinctive rebellion against pain, we are children again, and demand an active will to wreak our vengeance on.

If I got places, sir, it was because I made myself fit for 'em. If you want to slip into a round hole, you must first make a ball of yourself; that's where it is.

You may try but you can never imagine what it is to have a man's form of genius in you, and to suffer the slavery of being a girl.

Even much stronger mortals than Fred Vincy hold half their rectitude in the mind of the being they love best. "The theater of all my actions is fallen," said an antique personage when his chief friend was dead, and they are fortunate who get a theater where the audience demands their best.

I am not magnanimous enough to like people who speak to me without seeming to see me.

To judge wisely we must know how things appear to the unwise.

Why should I not marry the man who loves me, if I love him? said Catherine. To her the effort was something like the leap of a woman from the deck into the lifeboat.

Sir James paused. He did not usually find it easy to give his reasons: it seemed to him strange that people should not know them without being told, since he only felt what was reasonable.

It seems to me we can never give up longing and wishing while we are thoroughly alive. There are certain things we feel to be beautiful and good, and we must hunger after them.

The story can be told without many words.

Notions and scruples were like spilt needles, making one afraid of treading, or sitting down, or even eating.

No anguish I have had to bear on your account has been too heavy a price to pay for the new life into which I have entered in loving you.

Mr. Bates was sober, with that manly, British, churchman-like sobriety which can carry a few glasses of grog without any perceptible clarification of ideas.

Do we not all agree to call rapid thought and noble impulse by the name of inspiration?