Quotes and Images From The Works of George Meredith
by
George Meredith
Part 3 out of 3
the life they lead
Twice a bad thing to turn sinners loose
Twisted by a nature that would not
allow of open eyes
Two wishes make a will
Two principal roads by which poor
sinners come to a conscience
Two people love, there is no such thing
as owing between them
Unaccustomed to have his will thwarted
Unanimous verdicts from a jury of
temporary impressions
Uncommon unprogressiveness
Unfeminine of any woman to speak
continuously anywhere
Universal censor's angry spite
Unseemly hour--unbetimes
Unshamed exuberant male has found the
sweet reverse in his mate
Use your religion like a drug
Utterance of generous and patriotic
cries is not sufficient
Vagrant compassionateness of
sentimentalists
Vanity maketh the strongest most weak
Venerated by his followers, well hated
by his enemies
Venus of nature was melting into a
Venus of art
Very little parleying between
determined men
Vessel was conspiring to ruin our
self-respect
Victims of the modern feminine 'ideal'
Violent summons to accept, which is a
provocation to deny
Virtue of impatience
Virtuously zealous in an instant on
behalf of the lovely dame
Vowed never more to repeat that offence
to his patience
Vulgarity in others evoked vulgarity in
her
Wait till the day's ended before you
curse your luck
Waited serenely for the certain
disasters to enthrone her
Wakening to the claims of others--
Youth's infant conscience
Want of courage is want of sense
War is only an exaggerated form of
duelling
Warm, is hardly the word--Winter's warm
on skates
Was I true? Not so very false, yet how
far from truth!
Was not one of the order whose Muse is
the Public Taste
Was born on a hired bed
Watch, and wait
We are, in short, a civilized people
We shall not be rich--nor poor
We could row and ride and fish and
shoot, and breed largely
We has long overshadowed "I"
We are good friends till we quarrel
again
We are chiefly led by hope
We have a system, not planned but grown
We can bear to fall; we cannot afford
to draw back
We can't hope to have what should be
We don't know we are in halves
We must fawn in society
We never see peace but in the features
of the dead
We live alone, and do not much feel it
till we are visited
We dare not be weak if we would
We do not see clearly when we are
trying to deceive
We women can read men by their power to
love
We were unarmed, and the spectacle was
distressing
We trust them or we crush them
We shall go together; we shall not have
to weep for one another
We make our taskmasters of those to
whom we have done a wrong
We cannot relinquish an idea that was
ours
We deprive all renegades of their
spiritual titles
We like well whatso we have done good
work for
We grew accustomed to periods of Irish
fever
We have come to think we have a claim
upon her gratitude
We must have some excuse, if we would
keep to life
We shall want a war to teach the
country the value of courage
We cannot, men or woman, control the
heart in sleep at night
We have now looked into the hazy
interior of their systems
We don't go together into a garden of
roses
We're treated like old-fashioned
ornaments!
We're all of us hit at last, and
generally by our own weapon
We're a peaceful people, but 'ware who
touches us
We're smitten to-day in our hearts and
our pockets
We've all a parlous lot too much pulpit
in us
Weak stomach is certainly more carnally
virtuous than a full one
Weak reeds who are easily vanquished
and never overcome
Weak souls are much moved by having the
pathos on their side
Weather and women have some resemblance
they say
Weighty little word--woman's native
watchdog and guardian (No!)
Welcomed and lured on an adversary to
wild outhitting
Well, sir, we must sell our opium
Welsh blood is queer blood
Went into endless invalid's laughter
Were I chained, For liberty I would
sell liberty
What might have been
What the world says, is what the wind
says
What will be thought of me? not a small
matter to any of us
What he did, she took among other
inevitable matters
What a stock of axioms young people
have handy
What a woman thinks of women, is the
test of her nature
What else is so consolatory to a ruined
man?
What was this tale of Emilia, that grew
more and more perplexing
What ninnies call Nature in books
What a man hates in adversity is to see
'faces'
What's an eccentric? a child grown
grey!
When you run away, you don't live to
fight another day
When we see our veterans tottering to
their fall
When to loquacious fools with patience
rare I listen
When testy old gentlemen could commit
slaughter with ecstasy
When he's a Christian instead of a
Churchman
When Love is hurt, it is self-love that
requires the opiate
When duelling flourished on our land,
frail women powerful
When we despair or discolour things, it
is our senses in revolt
When you have done laughing with her,
you can laugh at her
Where fools are the fathers of every
miracle
Where one won't and can't, poor
t' other must
Where she appears, the first person
falls to second rank
Where heart weds mind, or nature joins
intellect
Where love exists there is goodness
Whimpering fits you said we enjoy and
must have in books
Who venerate when they love
Who cannot talk!--but who can?
Who rises from Prayer a better man, his
prayer is answered
Who beguiles so much as Self?
Who shrinks from an hour that is
suspended in doubt
Who in a labyrinth wandereth without
clue
Who enjoyed simple things when
commanding the luxuries
Who can really think, and not think
hopefully?
Who cries, Come on, and prays his gods
you won't
Who so intoxicated as the convalescent
catching at health?
Who shuns true friends flies fortune in
the concrete
Who ever loved that loved not at first
sight?
Whole body of fanatics combined to
precipitate the devotion
Whose bounty was worse to him than his
abuse
Why should these men take so much
killing?
Why, he'll snap your head off for a
word
Why he enjoyed the privilege of seeing,
and was not beside her
Wife and no wife, a prisoner in liberty
Wilfrid perceived that he had become an
old man
Will not admit the existence of a
virtue in an opposite opinion
William John Fleming was simply a poor
farmer
Win you--temperately, let us hope; by
storm, if need be
Winds of panic are violently engaged in
occupying the vacuum
Wins everywhere back a reflection of
its own kindliness
Winter mornings are divine. They move
on noiselessly
Wise in not seeking to be too wise
With that I sail into the dark
With good wine to wash it down, one can
swallow anything
With what little wisdom the world is
governed
With death; we'd rather not, because of
a qualm
With one idea, we see nothing--nothing
but itself
With a frozen fish of admirable
principles for wife
With this money, said the demon, you
might speculate
With a proud humility
Withdrew into the entrenchments of
contempt
Without a single intimation that he
loathed the task
Without those consolatory efforts,
useless between men
Wits, which are ordinarily less
productive than land
Wives are only an item in the list, and
not the most important
Woman descending from her ideal to the
gross reality of man
Woman will be the last thing civilized
by Man
Woman finds herself on board a
rudderless vessel
Woman's precious word No at the
sentinel's post, and alert
Women are wonderfully quick scholars
under ridicule
Women with brains, moreover, are all
heartless
Women are taken to be the second
thoughts of the Creator
Women don't care uncommonly for the men
who love them
Women must not be judging things out of
their sphere
Women and men are in two hostile camps
Women treat men as their tamed
housemates
Women are swift at coming to
conclusions in these matters
Women are happier enslaved
Won't do to be taking in reefs on a
lee-shore
Wonderment that one of her sex should
have ideas
Wooing her with dog's eyes instead of
words
Wooing a good man for his friendship
Work of extravagance upon perceptibly
plain matter
Work is medicine
World cannot pardon a breach of
continuity
World against us It will not keep us
from trying to serve
World is ruthless, dear friends,
because the world is hypocrite
World prefers decorum to honesty
World voluntarily opens a path to those
who step determinedly
Would like to feel he was doing a bit
of good
Would he see what he aims at? let him
ask his heels
Wrapped in the comfort of his cowardice
Writer society delights in, to show
what it is composed of
Yawns coming alarmingly fast, in the
place of ideas
Years are the teachers of the great
rocky natures
Yet, though Angels smile, shall not
Devils laugh
You accuse or you exonerate--Nobody can
be half guilty
You choose to give yourself to an
obscure dog
You rides when you can, and you walks
when you must
You talk your mother with a vengeance
You do want polish
You who may have cared for her through
her many tribulations, have no fear
You are entreated to repress alarm
You beat me with the fists, but my
spirit is towering
You can master pain, but not doubt
You are not married, you are simply
chained
You have not to be told that I desire
your happiness above all
You are to imagine that they know
everything
You may learn to know yourself through
love
You want me to flick your indecision
You saw nothing but handkerchiefs out
all over the theatre
You played for gain, and that was a
licenced thieving
You'll have to guess at half of
everything he tells you
You'll tell her you couldn't sit down
in her presence undressed
You're the puppet of your women!
You're talking to me, not to a gallery
You're a rank, right-down widow, and no
mistake
You're going to be men, meaning
something better than women
You've got no friend but your bed
Young as when she looked upon the
lovers in Paradise
Your devotion craves an enormous
exchange
Youth will not believe that stupidity
and beauty can go together
Youth is not alarmed by the sound of
big sums
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