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"There was something better in life than this rubbish, if only he could get to it-love-nobility-big spaces where passion clasped peace, spaces no science could reach, but they existed for ever, full of woods some of them, and arched with majestic sky and a friend. . ."
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"I prefer truth-based entertaining idealism."

"A miracle is never perfect when it happens, there are always little disappointments. But once it's gone for good and nothing can change it, memory could make it perfect and then it would never change. If I can just call it to life now, won't it always stay the same? Won't it stay with me as long as I live?"

"What you call life is but a dream, and reality is relative."

"An idealist is a person who helps other people to be prosperous."

"The select natures who pant after the ideal, and find nothing in pantaloons or petticoats great enough to command their reverence and love, are curiously in unison with the narrowest and pettiest."

"The notion that the species can be improved in some way, that everyone could live in harmony, is a really dangerous idea. Those who are afflicted with this notion are the first ones to give up their souls, their freedom. Your desire that it be that way will enslave you and make your life vacuous."

"For it cannot be denied that all over the world and in all ages there are beings who are perceived to be extraordinary, charming, and appealing, and whom many honor as benevolent spirits, because they make one think of a more beautiful, a freer, a more winged life than the one we lead."

"If you didn't have some sense of idealism, then what is there to sustain you?"
Explore more quotes by E. M. Forster

"She stopped and leant her elbows against the parapet of the embankment. He did likewise. There is at times a magic in identity of position, it is one of the things that have suggested to us eternal comradeship."

"Books have to be read (worse luck, for it takes a long time); it is the only way of discovering what they contain."

"For our vanity is such that we hold our own characters immutable, and we are slow to acknowledge that they have changed, even for the better."

"How can the mind take hold of such a country? Generations of invaders have tried, but they remain in exile. The important towns they build are only retreats, their quarrels the malaise of men who cannot find their way home. India knows of their trouble. She knows of the whole world's trouble, to its uttermost depth. She calls "Come" through her hundred mouths, through objects ridiculous and august. But come to what? She has never defined. She is not a promise, only an appeal."
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