Personal relations are the important thing for ever and ever, and not this outer life of telegrams and anger.
E. M. ForsterRead
When I think of what life is, and how seldom love is answered by love; it is one of the moments for which the world was made.
Interpretation
Life's essence includes the bittersweet reality of unreciprocated love.
E. M. Forster reflects on the nature of life and love, suggesting that much of our existence is shaped by the moments when love is not returned. This poignancy encapsulates the beauty and sadness inherent in human relationships, highlighting how these fleeting experiences contribute to the overall tapestry of life.
In practice
In a speech about the complexity of human emotions, one might quote Forster to illustrate the dual nature of love.
Personal relations are the important thing for ever and ever, and not this outer life of telegrams and anger.
A poem is true if it hangs together. Information points to something else. A poem points to nothing but itself.
One must be fond of people and trust them if one is not to make a mess of life.
Oxford is Oxford: not a mere receptacle for youth, like Cambridge. Perhaps it wants its inmates to love it rather than to love one another.
The fact is we can only love what we know personally. And we cannot know much. In public affairs, in the rebuilding of civilization, something less dramatic and emotional is needed, namely tolerance.
One person with passion is better than forty people merely interested.
Am I in love? --yes, since I am waiting. The other one never waits. Sometimes I want to play the part of the one who doesn't wait; I try to busy myself elsewhere, to arrive late; but I always lose at this game. Whatever I do, I find myself there, with nothing to do, punctual, even ahead of time. The lover's fatal identity is precisely this: I am the one who waits.
Every time you smile at someone, it is an action of love, a gift to that person, a beautiful thing.
You're in love? Out Out of love? I love someone. She doesn't love me.
To fall in love is to create a religion that has a fallible god.
No mistake about it. Ice is cold; roses are red; I'm in love. And this love is about to carry me off somewhere. The current's too overpowering; I don't have any choice. It may very well be a special place, some place I've never seen before. Danger may be lurking there, something that may end up wounding me deeply, fatally. I might end up losing everything. But there's no turning back. I can only go with the flow. Even if it means I'll be burned up, gone forever.
The silence of the forest is my bride and the sweet dark warmth of the whole world is my love, and out of the heart of that dark warmth comes the secret that is heard only in silence, but it is the root of all the secrets that are whispered by all the lovers in their beds all over the world.
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