A poem is true if it hangs together. Information points to something else. A poem points to nothing but itself. – E. M. Forster
There lies at the back of every creed something terrible and hard for which the worshipper may one day be required to suffer. – E. M. Forster
The final test for a novel will be our affection for it, as it is the test of our friends, and of anything else which we cannot define. – E. M. Forster
Railway termini are our gates to the glorious and the unknown. Through them we pass out into adventure and sunshine, to them, alas! we return. – E. M. Forster
There is much good luck in the world, but it is luck. We are none of us safe. We are children, playing or quarrelling on the line. – E. M. Forster
The work of art assumes the existence of the perfect spectator, and is indifferent to the fact that no such person exists. – E. M. Forster
We are willing enough to praise freedom when she is safely tucked away in the past and cannot be a nuisance. In the present, amidst dangers whose outcome we cannot foresee, we get nervous about her, and admit censorship. – E. M. Forster