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Explain! Tell a man to explain how he dropped into hell! Explain my preference! I never had a PREFERENCE for her, any more than I have a preference for breathing. No other woman exists by the side of her. I would rather touch her hand if it were dead, than I would touch any other woman's living.
George Eliot
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Interpretation

What this quote means

The quote expresses an intense, singular love for one person above all others.

In this quote, George Eliot conveys the depth of her devotion, suggesting that her affection for this particular woman is so profound that it transcends any lesser connection to others. The imagery illustrates how the speaker doesn't merely prefer this woman; her love is essential, akin to the necessity of breathing, highlighting the unique and irreplaceable bond she shares with her.

Themes

LoveDevotionPreferenceAffectionRelationship

In practice

Example use cases

This quote could be used in a wedding speech to illustrate deep and unwavering love.

More from George Eliot

Go forward with joyful confidence.
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You must love your work, and not be always looking over the edge of it, wanting your play to begin. And the other is, you must not be ashamed of your work, and think it would be more honorable to you to be doing something else. You must have a pride in your own work and in learning to do it well.
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She thought it was part of the hardship of her life that there was laid upon her the burthen of larger wants than others seemed to feel – that she had to endure this wide hopeless yearning for that something, whatever it was, that was greatest and best on this earth.
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Life seems to go on without effort when I am filled with music.
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I think I should have no other mortal wants, if I could always have plenty of music. It seems to infuse strength into my limbs and ideas into my brain. Life seems to go on without effort, when I am filled with music.
George EliotRead
Our dead are never dead to us until we have forgotten them: they can be injured by us, they can be wounded; they know all our penitence, all our aching sense that their place is empty, all the kisses we bestow on the smallest relic of their presence.
George EliotRead

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Quote by George Eliot | QuoteProject