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 GALSWORTHYAnd to be stolen away from ourselves by Art is a momentary relaxation from that itching, a minute’s profound, and as it were secret, enfranchisement.
More John Galsworthy Quotes
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For who would live so petty and unblest That dare not tilt at something ere he die; Rather than, screened by safe majority, Preserve his little life to little end, And never raise a rebel cry!
JOHN GALSWORTHY -
Beginnings are always messy.
JOHN GALSWORTHY -
Not the least hard thing to bear when they go from us, these quiet friends, is that they carry away with them so many years of our own lives.
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 -
By the cigars they smoke, and the composers they love, ye shall know the texture of men’s souls.
JOHN GALSWORTHY -
I am still under the impression that there is nothing alive quite so beautiful as a thoroughbred horse.
JOHN GALSWORTHY -
Justice is a machine that, when some one has once given it the starting push, rolls on of itself.
JOHN GALSWORTHY -
Only love makes fruitful the soul.
JOHN GALSWORTHY -
Once admit that we have the right to inflict unnecessary suffering and you destroy the very basis of human society.
JOHN GALSWORTHY -
The French cook; we open tins.
JOHN GALSWORTHY -
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 -
Society is built on marriage … marriage and its consequences.
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 -
The value of a sentiment is the amount of sacrifice you are prepared to make for it.
JOHN GALSWORTHY -
It is by muteness that a dog becomes for one so utterly beyond value; with him one is at peace, where words play no torturing tricks.
JOHN GALSWORTHY