"A human act once set in motion flows on forever to the great account. Our deathlessness is in what we do, not in what we are"
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A deed, once done, enters the stream of causes and effects and keeps moving beyond the doer. The image of a current suggests that human actions do not end at the point of intention; they are carried forward by other minds, institutions, and circumstances, spreading consequences that may outlive memory. The phrase the great account evokes both a moral ledger and the long reckoning of history. It hints at religious judgment while also fitting a secular Victorian faith in progress, responsibility, and the social fabric that records and amplifies what people set in motion.
George Meredith, a Victorian novelist and poet preoccupied with egoism, conscience, and social interplay, often treated character as something revealed and shaped in action. Novels like The Egoist and poems like Modern Love observe how choices ripple through relationships, correcting or compounding error. Against the romantic cult of essence and the aristocratic pride in pedigree, he presses a more democratic truth: identity as status or temperament does not confer lasting meaning. Merit arises when inner life becomes outward work that benefits or harms others.
There is humility and severity in the claim that our deathlessness lies in what we do. It denies the comfort of being immortal by nature, offering instead the sobering comfort that influence persists. The standard becomes not purity of feeling but the trace our deeds leave in the common world, which may be altered by courage, kindness, or cruelty. That view intensifies moral attention to daily acts, to unintended consequences, and to the way habits accumulate into public outcomes.
Meredith writes from an age enthralled by scientific law and social reform, and his metaphor of motion aligns with both. Once released, an act obeys its own momentum, unless countered by other acts. We cannot escape that accounting, but we can add to it wisely, seeking a form of immortality grounded not in self but in contributions that endure.
George Meredith, a Victorian novelist and poet preoccupied with egoism, conscience, and social interplay, often treated character as something revealed and shaped in action. Novels like The Egoist and poems like Modern Love observe how choices ripple through relationships, correcting or compounding error. Against the romantic cult of essence and the aristocratic pride in pedigree, he presses a more democratic truth: identity as status or temperament does not confer lasting meaning. Merit arises when inner life becomes outward work that benefits or harms others.
There is humility and severity in the claim that our deathlessness lies in what we do. It denies the comfort of being immortal by nature, offering instead the sobering comfort that influence persists. The standard becomes not purity of feeling but the trace our deeds leave in the common world, which may be altered by courage, kindness, or cruelty. That view intensifies moral attention to daily acts, to unintended consequences, and to the way habits accumulate into public outcomes.
Meredith writes from an age enthralled by scientific law and social reform, and his metaphor of motion aligns with both. Once released, an act obeys its own momentum, unless countered by other acts. We cannot escape that accounting, but we can add to it wisely, seeking a form of immortality grounded not in self but in contributions that endure.
Quote Details
| Topic | Legacy & Remembrance |
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