There are houses whose souls have passed into the limbo of Time, leaving their bodies in the limbo of London.
JOHN GALSWORTHYThe Forsytes were resentful of something, not individually, but as a family; this resentment expressed itself in an added perfection of raiment, an exuberance of family cordiality, an exaggeration of family importance, and the sniff.
More John Galsworthy Quotes
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We have to love because we love loving.
JOHN GALSWORTHY -
The bicycle… has been responsible for more movement in manners and morals than anything since Charles the Second.
JOHN GALSWORTHY -
Love! Beyond measure – beyond death – it nearly kills. But one wouldn’t have been without it.
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 beginnings and endings of all human undertakings are untidy.
JOHN GALSWORTHY -
Religion was nearly dead because there was no longer real belief in future life; but something was struggling to take its place – service – social service – the ants creed, the bees creed.
JOHN GALSWORTHY -
Life calls the tune, we dance.
JOHN GALSWORTHY -
Matters change and morals change; men remain.
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 -
He might wish and wish and never get it – the beauty and the loving in the world!
JOHN GALSWORTHY -
By the cigars they smoke, and the composers they love, ye shall know the texture of men’s souls.
JOHN GALSWORTHY -
Only love makes fruitful the soul.
JOHN GALSWORTHY -
I think the greatest thing in the world is to believe in people.
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 -
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