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W. Somerset Maugham Quotes about Heart

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Each one of us is alone in the world. He is shut in a tower of brass, and can communicate with his fellows only by signs, and the signs have no common value, so that their sense is vague and uncertain. We seek pitifully

Each one of us is alone in the world. He is shut in a tower of brass, and can communicate with his fellows only by signs, and the signs have no common value, so that their sense is vague and uncertain. We seek pitifully to convey to others the treasures of our heart, but they have not the power to accept them, and so we go lonely, side by side but not together, unable to know our fellows and unknown by them.

W. Somerset Maugham
Lonely, Heart, Together
W. Somerset Maugham (2006). “The Moon and Sixpence”, p.113, Courier Corporation

The tragedy of love is not death or separation. How long do you think it would have been before one or other of them ceased to care? Oh, it is dreadfully bitter to look at a woman whom you have loved with all your heart and soul, so that you felt you could not bear to let her out of your sight, and realize that you would not mind if you never saw her again. The tragedy of love is indifference.

W. Somerset Maugham
Heart, Thinking, Love Is
W. Somerset Maugham (2015). “The Trembling of a Leaf: Stories of the South Sea Islands”, p.85, Xist Publishing

I'll give you my opinion of the human race in a nutshell... their heart's in the right place, but their head is a thoroughly inefficient organ.

W. Somerset Maugham
Heart, Race, Giving
The Summing Up

Women's hearts are like old china, none the worse for a break or two.

W. Somerset Maugham
Women, Heart, Two

What was it in the human heart that made you despise a man because he loved you?

W. Somerset Maugham
Heart, Men, Made

No one can write a best seller by trying to. He must write with complete sincerity; the clichés that make you laugh, the hackneyed characters, the well-worn situations, the commonplace story that excites your derision, seem neither hackneyed, well worn nor commonplace to him. ... The conclusion is obvious: you cannot write anything that will convince unless you are yourself convinced. The best seller sells because he writes with his heart's blood.

W. Somerset Maugham
Writing, Heart, Character

It does the heart good to look at you.

W. Somerset Maugham
Heart, Looks, Doe
W. Somerset Maugham (2009). “The Painted Veil”, p.127, Random House

No man in his heart is quite so cynical as a well-bred woman.

W. Somerset Maugham
Heart, Men, Cynical

Love is not always blind and there are few things that cause greater wretchedness than to love with all your heart someone who you know is unworthy of love.

W. Somerset Maugham
Love, Heart, Who You Know
W. Somerset Maugham (1954). “Mr. Maugham Himself”

One does not really feel much grief at other people's sorrows; one tries, and puts on a melancholy face, thinking oneself brutal for not caring more; but one cannot and it is better, for if one grieved too deeply at other people's tears, life would be unendurable; and every man has sufficient sorrows of his own without taking to heart his neighbour's.

W. Somerset Maugham
Grief, Heart, Caring

I think I was a little disappointed in her. I expected then people to be more of a piece than I do now, and I was distressed to find so much vindictiveness in so charming a creature. I did not realize how motley are the qualities that go to make up a human being. Now I am well aware that pettiness and grandeur, malice and charity, hatred and love, can find place side by side in the same human heart.

W. Somerset Maugham
Heart, Thinking, People
W. Somerset Maugham (2012). “The Moon and Sixpence”, p.44, Courier Corporation

She alone had been blind to his merit. Why? Because he loved her and she did not love him. What was it in the human heart that made you despise a man because he loved you?

W. Somerset Maugham
Heart, Men, Merit

He knew that all things human are transitory and therefore that it must cease one day or another. He looked forward to that day with eager longing. Love was like a parasite in his heart, nourishing a hateful existence on his life's blood; it absorbed his existence so intensely that he could take pleasure in nothing else.

W. Somerset Maugham
Heart, Blood, One Day
W. Somerset Maugham (2016). “Of Human Bondage (Diversion Classics)”, p.416, Diversion Books

This love was a torment, and he resented bitterly the subjugation in which it held him; he was a prisoner and he longed for freedom. Sometimes he awoke in the morning and felt nothing; his soul leaped, for he thought he was free; he loved no longer; but in a little while, as he grew wide awake, the pain settled in his heart, and he knew that he was not cured yet.

W. Somerset Maugham
Morning, Pain, Heart
W. Somerset Maugham (2013). “The Essential W. Somerset Maugham Collection”, p.1854, eBookIt.com

There is only one way to win hearts and that is to make oneself like unto those of whom one would be loved.

W. Somerset Maugham
Heart, Winning, Would Be

Freedom! That was the thought that sung in her heart so that even though the future was so dim, it was iridescent like the mist over the river where the morning sun fell upon it. Freedom! Not only freedom from a bond that irked, and a companionship which depressed her; freedom, not only from the death which had threatened, but freedom from the love that had degraded her; freedom from all spiritual ties, the freedom of a disembodied spirit, and with freedom, courage , and a valiant unconcern for whatever was to come.

W. Somerset Maugham
Spiritual, Morning, Heart

Are you sure you can prevent yourself from falling in love one of these days? Such things do happen, you know, even to the most prudent men.' Simon gave him a strange, one might even have thought a hostile, look. I should tear it out of my heart as I'd wrench out of my mouth a rotten tooth.

W. Somerset Maugham
Falling In Love, Heart, Men
W. Somerset Maugham (1939). “Christmas Holiday”

Everyone had some defect, or body or of mind: he thought of all the people he had known (the whole world was like a sick house and there was no rhyme or reason in it), he saw a long procession, deformed in body, warped in mind, some with illness of the flesh, weak hearts or weak lungs, and some with illness of the spirit, languor of will, or craving for liquor. At that moment he felt a holy compassion for them all. …The words of the dying God crossed his memory: Forgive them, for they know not what they do.

W. Somerset Maugham
Memories, Heart, Compassion

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