Personal relations are the important thing for ever and ever, and not this outer life of telegrams and anger.
E. M. ForsterRead
Towns are after all excrescences, grey fluxions, where men, hurrying to find one another, have lost themselves.
Interpretation
Urban life can make people feel disconnected despite being surrounded by others.
In this quote, E. M. Forster reflects on the paradox of city life, where individuals, in their pursuit of connection and community, often become lost in the hustle and bustle of urban existence. The term 'excrescences' suggests that towns are unnatural growths, highlighting how cities can sometimes isolate individuals rather than bring them together, leading to a loss of true identity and self amidst the chaos of modern life.
In practice
In a speech about mental health, you might use this quote to emphasize the loneliness that can exist in cities.
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.
When you stand up in the morning, you look in the mirror and say, 'I'm black.' No. You wake up and you see yourself as a human being in the world, but you raise discussion and raise aggression, the anger that you confront every day of your life, whether you want to or not.
Remember: The best deceivers do everything they can to cloak their roguish qualities. They cultivate an air of honesty in one area to disguise their dishonesty in others. Honesty is merely another decoy in their arsenal of weapons.
Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar.
The human condition: lost in thought.
I am tired and sick of war. Its glory is all moonshine. It is only those who have neither fired a shot nor heard the shrieks and groans of the wounded who cry aloud for blood, for vengeance, for desolation. War is hell.
Just as primitive man believed himself to stand face to face with demons and believed that could he but know their names he would become their master, so is contemporary man faced by this incomprehensible, which disorders his calculations.
Subscribe for the occasional hand-picked quote. No noise.