Memory heaps dead leaves on corpse-like deeds, from under which they do but vaguely offend the sense.
JOHN GALSWORTHYThe Forsytes were resentful of something, not individually, but as a family; this resentment expressed itself in an added perfection of raiment, an exuberance of family cordiality, an exaggeration of family importance, and the sniff.
More John Galsworthy Quotes
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He was afflicted by the thought that where Beauty was, nothing ever ran quite straight, which no doubt, was why so many people looked on it as immoral.
JOHN GALSWORTHY -
It was such a spring day as breathes into a man an ineffable yearning, a painful sweetness, a longing that makes him stand motionless, looking at the leaves or grass, and fling out his arms to embrace he knows not what.
JOHN GALSWORTHY -
To dislike the clothes and voices of other men – all this was precious to her beyond everything.
JOHN GALSWORTHY -
Honesty of thought and speech and written word is a jewel.
JOHN GALSWORTHY -
Early morning does not mince words.
JOHN GALSWORTHY -
Looking back on the long-stretched-out body of one’s work, it is interesting to mark the endless duel fought within a man between the emotional and critical sides of his nature.
JOHN GALSWORTHY -
Such was not quite the condition of Timothy’s on the Bayswater Road, for Timothy’s soul still had one foot in Timothy Forsyte’s body, and Smither kept the atmosphere unchanging, of camphor and port wine and house whose windows are only opened to air it twice a day.
JOHN GALSWORTHY -
The sense of form that both had in such high degree prevented much demonstration; but to be with him, do things for him, to admire, and credit him with perfection; and, since she could not exactly wear the same clothes or speak in the same clipped, quiet, decisive voice.
JOHN GALSWORTHY -
First one, then the other, getting the upper hand, and too seldom fusing till the result has the mellowness of full achievement.
JOHN GALSWORTHY -
A wild plant that, when it blooms by chance within the hedge of our gardens, we call a flower; and when it blooms outside we call a weed; but, flower or weed, whose scent and colour are always, wild!
JOHN GALSWORTHY -
Only out of stir and change is born new salvation. To deny that is to deny belief in man, to turn our backs on courage!
JOHN GALSWORTHY -
Slang is vigorous and apt. Probably most of our vital words were once slang.
JOHN GALSWORTHY -
He might wish and wish and never get it – the beauty and the loving in the world!
JOHN GALSWORTHY -
The beginnings and endings of all human undertakings are untidy.
JOHN GALSWORTHY -
For, what is grievous, dompting, grim, about our lives is that we are shut up within ourselves, with an itch to get outside ourselves.
JOHN GALSWORTHY