It is an age of stir and change, a season of new wine and old bottles. Yet, assuredly, in spite of breakages and waste, a wine worth the drinking is all the time being made.
JOHN GALSWORTHYOnly love makes fruitful the soul.
More John Galsworthy Quotes
-
-
We have known an emotion which is in every case the same in kind, if not in degree; an emotion precious and uplifting.
JOHN GALSWORTHY -
Not the least hard thing to bear when they go from us, these quiet friends, is that they carry away with them so many years of our own lives.
JOHN GALSWORTHY -
If you do not think about the future, you cannot have one.
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 -
Take modern courtships! They resulted in the same thing as under George the Second, but took longer to reach it, owing to the motor-cycle and the standing lunch.
JOHN GALSWORTHY -
The value of a sentiment is the amount of sacrifice you are prepared to make for it.
JOHN GALSWORTHY -
One can even tell the nature of one’s readers, by their preference for the work which reveals more of this side than of that.
JOHN GALSWORTHY -
The young man who, at the end of September, 1924, dismounted from a taxicab in South Square,
JOHN GALSWORTHY -
Dawn has power to fertilise the most matter-of-fact vision.
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 -
Love! Beyond measure – beyond death – it nearly kills. But one wouldn’t have been without it.
JOHN GALSWORTHY -
I am still under the impression that there is nothing alive quite so beautiful as a thoroughbred horse.
JOHN GALSWORTHY -
Early morning does not mince words.
JOHN GALSWORTHY -
As a man lives and thinks, so he will write.
JOHN GALSWORTHY -
There are houses whose souls have passed into the limbo of Time, leaving their bodies in the limbo of London.
JOHN GALSWORTHY