By the cigars they smoke, and the composers they love, ye shall know the texture of men’s souls.
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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See what perils do environ those who meddle with hot iron.
JOHN GALSWORTHY -
Love is not a hot-house flower, but a wild plant, born of a wet night, born of an hour of sunshine; sprung from wild seed, blown along the road by a wild wind.
JOHN GALSWORTHY -
Men are in fact, quite unable to control their own inventions; they at best develop adaptability to the new conditions those inventions create.
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 -
Under its influence, wholly or in part, have blossomed weekends, strong nerves, strong legs, strong language… equality of sex, good digestion and professional occupation – in four words, the emanicipation of women.
JOHN GALSWORTHY -
A man is the sum of his actions, of what he has done, of what he can do, Nothing else.
JOHN GALSWORTHY -
Slang is vigorous and apt. Probably most of our vital words were once slang.
JOHN GALSWORTHY -
It is the continual, unconscious replacement, however fleeting, of oneself by another; the real cement of human life; the everlasting refreshment and renewal.
JOHN GALSWORTHY -
One’s eyes are what one is, one’s mouth is what one becomes.
JOHN GALSWORTHY -
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 -
The bicycle… has been responsible for more movement in manners and morals than anything since Charles the Second.
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 -
Memory heaps dead leaves on corpse-like deeds, from under which they do but vaguely offend the sense.
JOHN GALSWORTHY -
Danger so indispensable in bringing out the fundamental quality of any society, group, or individual was what the Forsytes scented; the premonition of danger put a burnish on their armour.
JOHN GALSWORTHY -
The beginnings and endings of all human undertakings are untidy.
JOHN GALSWORTHY