Humanism is the creed of those who believe that in the circle of enwrapping mystery, men’s fates are in their own hands.
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
-
-
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 -
It isn’t enough to love people because they’re good to you, or because in some way or other you’re going to get something by it.
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 -
How to save the old that’s worth saving, whether in landscape, houses, manners, institutions, or human types, is one of our greatest problems, and the one that we bother least about.
JOHN GALSWORTHY -
Public opinion’s always in advance of the law.
JOHN GALSWORTHY -
It’s not life that counts but the fortitude you bring into it.
JOHN GALSWORTHY -
A faith that for modern man is becoming the only possible faith.
JOHN GALSWORTHY -
Love of beauty is really only the sex instinct, which nothing but complete union satisfies.
JOHN GALSWORTHY -
Beginnings are always messy.
JOHN GALSWORTHY -
Love has no age, no limit; and no death.
JOHN GALSWORTHY -
To dislike the clothes and voices of other men – all this was precious to her beyond everything.
JOHN GALSWORTHY -
The bicycle… has been responsible for more movement in manners and morals than anything since Charles the Second.
JOHN GALSWORTHY -
Early morning does not mince words.
JOHN GALSWORTHY -
Beauty means this to one person, perhaps, and that to the other. And yet when any one of us has seen or heard or read that which to us is beautiful.
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






