“Love is an act of endless forgiveness, a tender look which becomes a habit.”
BBC obituary (2004)
Help us to complete the source, original and additional information
Peter Ustinov 59
English actor, writer, and dramatist 1921–2004Related quotes

“So strong is habit in tender years.”
Adeo in teneris consuescere multum est.
Book II, line 272 (tr. Fairclough)
Compare: "Just as the twig is bent, the tree's inclined." Alexander Pope, Moral Essays: Epistle I (1734), line 150.
Georgics (29 BC)


Source: Self-Help; with Illustrations of Character and Conduct (1859), Ch. XIII : Character — The True Gentleman
Context: Even happiness itself may become habitual. There is a habit of looking at the bright side of things, and also of looking at the dark side. Dr. Johnson has said that the habit of looking at the best side of a thing is worth more to a man than a thousand pounds a year. And we possess the power, to a great extent, of so exercising the will as to direct the thoughts upon objects calculated to yield happiness and improvement rather than their opposites.

1950s, Loving Your Enemies (Christmas 1957)
Context: First, we must develop and maintain the capacity to forgive. He who is devoid of the power to forgive is devoid of the power to love. It is impossible even to begin the act of loving one's enemies without prior acceptance of the necessity, over and over again, of forgiving those who inflict evil and injury upon us. It is also necessary to realize that the forgiving act must always be initiated by the person who has been wronged, the victim of some great hurt, the recipient of some tortuous injustice, the absorber of some terrible act of oppression. The wrongdoer may request forgiveness. He may come to himself, and, like the prodigal son, move up with some dusty road, his heart palpitating with the desire for forgiveness. But only the injured neighbor, the loving father back home can really pour out the warm waters of forgiveness.

“Quality is not an act, it is a habit.”

Es gibt eine Menge kleiner Rücksichtslosigkeiten und Unarten, die an und für sich nichts bedeuten, aber furchtbar sind als Kennzeichen der Beschaffenheit der Seele.
Source: Aphorisms (1880/1893), p. 38.