What is my joy if all hands, even the unclean, can reach into it? What is my wisdom, if even the fools can dictate to me? What is my freedom, if all creatures, even the botched and the impotent, are my masters? What is my life, if I am but to bow, to agree and to obey?

It is only when a man feels himself face to face with such horrors that he can understand their true import.

one should not crow over the defeat even of those who richly deserve to be defeated. That was dangerous, because then you yourself might get what you deserve for revelling in the misfortunes of another.

Our deeds determine us, as long as we determine our deeds

Written By George Eliot

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