A really cultured woman, like a really cultured man, is all the simpler and the less obtrusive for her knowledge; it has made her see herself and her opinions in something just like proportions; she does not make it a pedestal from which she flatters herself that she commands a complete view of men and things, but makes it a point of observation from which to form a right estimate of herself.
She neither spouts poetry nor quotes Cicero on slight provocation; not because she thinks that a sacrifice must be made to the prejudices of men, but because that mode of exhibiting her memory and Latinity does not present itself to her as edifying or graceful.
She does not write books to confound philosophers, perhaps because she is able to write books that delight them. In conversation she is the least formidable of women, because she understands you, without wanting to make you aware that you can't her. She does not give you information, which is the raw material of culture, - she gives you sympathy, which is its subtlest essence.
[george eilot - silly novels by lady novelists. which, if you haven't read, ingested, and contemplated, i would get on right now]
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2 comments:
Oh, oh, oh!
Such deliciousness!
One day I will be found upon the floor with ink streaming from the corners of my mouth and black inkyness stained upon my fingers. I could live off of words. Well, until that day when my passion takes over and carries my obsession too far...
But, I shall be a sensation and my story will be broad casted across the world. My soul will live on in famous tragedy...
*sigh.*
What an amazing description... beautiful!
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