This is George Eliot’s final word on Dorothea, the heroine of her novel: "Middlemarch".
“Her full nature, like that river of
which Cyrus broke the strength, spent itself in channels which had no great
name on the earth. But the effect
of her being on those around her was incalculably diffusive: for the growing good of the world is
partly dependent on unhistoric acts; and that things are not so ill with you
and me as they might have been is half owing to the number who lived faithfully
a hidden life, and rest in unvisited tombs.”
I find this to be one of the most beautiful passages in literature. For me, it
encapsulates what a meaningful life is about: connecting and contributing to something beyond ones self, day after day, in
whatever humble form that may take.
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