Wealth is a means to an end, not the end itself. As a synonym for health and happiness, it has had a fair trial and failed dismally.
JOHN GALSWORTHYA 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!
More John Galsworthy Quotes
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There is one rule for politicians all over the world: Don’t say in Power what you say in opposition; if you do, you only have to carry out what the other fellows have found impossible.
JOHN GALSWORTHY -
Honesty of thought and speech and written word is a jewel.
JOHN GALSWORTHY -
The bicycle… has been responsible for more movement in manners and morals than anything since Charles the Second.
JOHN GALSWORTHY -
A man is the sum of his actions, of what he has done, of what he can do, Nothing else.
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 -
We are all familiar with the argument: Make war dreadful enough, and there will be no war. And we none of us believe it.
JOHN GALSWORTHY -
The young man who, at the end of September, 1924, dismounted from a taxicab in South Square,
JOHN GALSWORTHY -
Idealism increases in direct proportion to one’s distance from the problem.
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 -
I think the greatest thing in the world is to believe in people.
JOHN GALSWORTHY -
Headlines twice the size of the events.
JOHN GALSWORTHY -
Slang is vigorous and apt. Probably most of our vital words were once slang.
JOHN GALSWORTHY -
Love of beauty is really only the sex instinct, which nothing but complete union satisfies.
JOHN GALSWORTHY -
We have to love because we love loving.
JOHN GALSWORTHY -
A snowy, moonlit peak, with its single star, soaring up to the passionate blue; or against the flames of sunset, an old yew-tree standing dark guardian of some fiery secret.
JOHN GALSWORTHY