Quotes About Understanding

That people should love like this, that Mr. Bankes should feel this for Mrs. Ramsay (she glanced at him musing) was helpful, was exalting.

I have had my vision

He was afraid he did not understand beauty apart form human beings.

But one only woke people if one knew what one wanted to say to them. And she wanted to say not one thing, but everything.

George Eliot makes us share their lives, not in a spirit of condescension or of curiosity, but in a spirit of sympathy. She is no satirist....But she gathers in her large grasp a great bunch of the main elements of human nature and groups them loosely together with a tolerant understanding which, as one finds upon re-reading, has not only kept her figures fresh and free, but has given them an unexpected hold upon our laughter and tears.

They know what to say if spoken to. They laugh really; they get angry really; while I have to look first and then do what other people do when they have done it.

And thus she made it impossible for me to roll out my sonorous phrases about 'elemental feelings,' the 'common stuff of humanity,' 'depths of the human heart,' and all those other phrases which support us in our belief that, however clever we may be on top, we are very serious, very profound and very humane underneath.

There was a mystery about it. You were given a sharp, acute, uncomfortable grain—the actual meeting; horribly painful as often not; yet in absence, in the most unlikely places, it would flower out, open, shed its scent, let you touch, taste, look about you, get the whole feel of it and understanding, after years of lying lost.

One must follow hints, not exactly what is said, nor yet entirely what is done--for

Si no dices la verdad sobre ti mismo, difícilmente podrás decir la de las otras personas.

Hablo con ellas y descubro que para ser las personas más felices del mundo tan solo necesitan saber que lo son.

Desiring truth, awaiting it, laboriously distilling a few words, forever desiring ---

Her eyes seemed to question, to commiserate, to be, for a second, love itself.

Clarissa had a theory in those days - they had heaps of theories, always theories, as young people have. It was to explain the feeling they had of dissatisfaction; not knowing people; not being known. For how could they know each other? You met every day; then not for six months, or years. It was unsatisfactory, they agreed, how little one knew people.

it was impossible to dislike any one if one looked at them.

She felt that if only one could begin things at the beginning, one might see more clearly upon what foundations they now rest.

She sliced like a knife through everything; at the same time was outside, looking on.

Half one's notions of other people were, after all, grotesque. They served private purposes of one's own.

Somewhere, everywhere, now hidden, now apparent in what ever is written down, is the form of a human being. If we seek to know him, are we idly occupied

Es esta una de las torturas y desgracias de la vida: cuando son incapaces nuestros amigos de terminar sus cuentos.

They neither work nor weep; in their shape is their reason.

Nothing should be named lest by so doing we change it

Los ojos de los otros, nuestras prisiones; sus pensamientos, nuestras jaulas.

But who, save the nerve-worn and sleepless, or thinkers standing with hands to the eyes on some crag above the multitude, see things thus in skeleton outline, bare of flesh?