E.M. Forster
What is wonderful about great literature is that it transforms the man who reads it towards the condition of the man who wrote.
— E.M. Forster
When we were only acquaintances, you let me be myself, but now you're always protecting me... I won't be protected. I will choose for myself what is ladylike and right. To shield me is an insult. Can't I be trusted to face the truth, but I must get it second-hand through you? A woman's place!
— E.M. Forster
When you come back you will not be you. And I may not be I.
— E.M. Forster
-while beyond the barrier Maurice wandered, the wrong words on his lips and the wrong desires in his heart, and his arms full of air.
— E.M. Forster
While her lips talked culture, her heart was planning to invite him to tea
— E.M. Forster
While the Gods are powerful, we learn little about them. It is only in their day of decadence that a strong light beats into heaven.
— E.M. Forster
Why can't we be friends now?" said the other, holding him affectionately. "It's what I want. It's what you want." But the horses didn't want it — they swerved apart: the earth didn't want it, sending up rocks through which riders must pass single file; the temple, the tank, the jail, the palace, the birds, the carrion, the Guest House, that came into view as they emerged from the gap and saw MAU beneath: they didn't want it, they said in their hundred voices "No, not yet," and the sky said "No, not there.
— E.M. Forster
Why children?' he asked. 'Why always children? For love to end where it begins is far more beautiful, and Nature knows it.
— E.M. Forster
With the first jolt he was in daylight; they had left the gateways of King’s Cross, and were under blue sky. Tunnels followed, and after each the sky grew bluer, and from the embankment at Fins bury Park he had his first sight of the sun. It rolled along behind the eastern smokes — a wheel, whose fellow was the descending moon — and as, yet it seemed the servant of the blue sky, not its lord. He dozed again. Over Twin Water it was day. To the left fell the shadow of the embankment and its arches; to the right Leonard saw up into the Twin Woods and towards the church, with its wild legend of immortality. Six forest trees — that is a fact — grow out of one of the graves in Twin churchyard. The grave’s occupant — that is the legend — is an atheist, who declared that if God existed, six forest trees would grow out of her grave. These things in Hertfordshire; and farther afield lay the house of a hermit — Mrs. Wilcox had known him — who barred himself up, and wrote prophecies, and gave all he had to the poor. While, powdered in between, were the villas of businessmen, who saw life more steadily, though with the steadiness of the half-closed eye. Over all the sun was streaming, to all the birds were singing, to all the primroses were yellow, and the speedwell blue, and the country, however they interpreted her, was uttering her cry of “now. ” She did not free Leonard yet, and the knife plunged deeper into his heart as the train drew up at Hilton. But remorse had become beautiful.
— E.M. Forster
Works of art, in my opinion, are the only objects in the material universe to possess internal order, and that is why, though I don't believe that only art matters, I do believe in Art for Art's sake.
— E.M. Forster
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