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 GALSWORTHYBeauty 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.
More John Galsworthy Quotes
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The beginnings and endings of all human undertakings are untidy.
JOHN GALSWORTHY -
Love! Beyond measure – beyond death – it nearly kills. But one wouldn’t have been without it.
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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 -
The building of a house, the writing of a novel, the demolition of a bridge, and, eminently, the finish of a voyage.
JOHN GALSWORTHY -
Everything we say and do and think has its effect on everything around us.
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 -
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 -
Memory heaps dead leaves on corpse-like deeds, from under which they do but vaguely offend the sense.
JOHN GALSWORTHY -
Beginnings are always messy.
JOHN GALSWORTHY -
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 -
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 -
Slang is vigorous and apt. Probably most of our vital words were once slang.
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It is the continual, unconscious replacement, however fleeting, of oneself by another; the real cement of human life; the everlasting refreshment and renewal.
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Love of beauty is really only the sex instinct, which nothing but complete union satisfies.
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When Man evolved Pity, he did a queer thing – deprived himself of the power of living life as it is without wishing it to become something different.
JOHN GALSWORTHY






