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Quotes and Images From The Works of George Meredith by George Meredith

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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

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

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

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

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

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

We were unarmed, and the spectacle was

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

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

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

We're treated like old-fashioned

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

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

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

What's an eccentric? a child grown

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

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

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

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

Who enjoyed simple things when
commanding the luxuries

Who can really think, and not think

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

Whole body of fanatics combined to
precipitate the devotion

Whose bounty was worse to him than his

Why should these men take so much

Why, he'll snap your head off for a

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

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

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

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

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

Women are swift at coming to
conclusions in these matters

Women are happier enslaved

Won't do to be taking in reefs on a

Wonderment that one of her sex should
have ideas

Wooing her with dog's eyes instead of

Wooing a good man for his friendship

Work of extravagance upon perceptibly
plain matter

Work is medicine

World cannot pardon a breach of

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

You have not to be told that I desire
your happiness above all

You are to imagine that they know

You may learn to know yourself through

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

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

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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