For the first time, as a family, they appeared to have an instinct of being in contact, with some strange and unsafe thing.
JOHN GALSWORTHYIt is the continual, unconscious replacement, however fleeting, of oneself by another; the real cement of human life; the everlasting refreshment and renewal.
More John Galsworthy Quotes
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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 -
We have to love because we love loving.
JOHN GALSWORTHY -
Dreaming is the poetry of Life, and we must be forgiven if we indulge in it a little.
JOHN GALSWORTHY -
One’s eyes are what one is, one’s mouth is what one becomes.
JOHN GALSWORTHY -
He was afflicted by the thought that where Beauty was, nothing ever ran quite straight, which no doubt, was why so many people looked on it as immoral.
JOHN GALSWORTHY -
Westminster, was so unobtrusively American that his driver had some hesitation in asking for double his fare. The young man had no hesitation in refusing 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 -
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 -
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 -
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 -
Only out of stir and change is born new salvation. To deny that is to deny belief in man, to turn our backs on courage!
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 -
Honesty of thought and speech and written word is a jewel.
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.
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Memory heaps dead leaves on corpse-like deeds, from under which they do but vaguely offend the sense.
JOHN GALSWORTHY