I just can’t be bothered to write a blog this morning. I have not recovered from what, in effect, was my day trip to Kiev – despite the fact I slept for a lot of that.
And I have to go to the dentist at midday today.
He is treating me for problems with a top right tooth and a bottom right tooth.
And, six days ago, an entire filling fell out a top left tooth. No immediate pain, but I could not get an appointment until today and went to Kiev with six different types of painkiller and a temporary tooth filling kit.
Now I just want to go to sleep before seeing the dentist.
So this blog is just going to be quotes from my favourite author before I stopped being able to read books after being hit by an articulated truck in 1991 – Look, you should have read my previous blogs. Now you will have to wait for the book of the blogs.
The writer Julian Barnes called Middlemarch by George Eliot “probably the greatest English novel”. Virginia Woolf said it was “one of the few English novels written for grown-up people” and Martin Amis called George Eliot “the greatest writer in the English language”.
All three are right.
RIP Mary Ann Evans
born 22nd November 1819
died 22nd December 1880
So it goes.
- I like trying to get pregnant. I’m not so sure about childbirth.
- Different taste in jokes is a great strain on the affections.
- It is never too late to be what you might have been.
- Failure after long perseverance is much grander than never to have a striving good enough to be called a failure.
- Great things are not done by impulse, but by a series of small things brought together.
- The golden moments in the stream of life rush past us, and we see nothing but sand; the angels come to visit us, and we only know them when they are gone.
- Our deeds still travel with us from afar, and what we have been makes us what we are.
- Blessed is the man, who having nothing to say, abstains from giving wordy evidence of the fact.