Justice is a machine that, when some one has once given it the starting push, rolls on of itself.
JOHN GALSWORTHYThere are moments when Nature reveals the passion hidden beneath the careless calm of her ordinary moods-violent spring flashing white on almond-blossom through the purple clouds.
More John Galsworthy Quotes
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And they who curb prejudice and seek honorably to know and speak the truth are the only builders of a better life.
JOHN GALSWORTHY -
I am still under the impression that there is nothing alive quite so beautiful as a thoroughbred horse.
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 -
Love could never come to full fruition till it was destroyed.
JOHN GALSWORTHY -
It is the continual, unconscious replacement, however fleeting, of oneself by another; the real cement of human life; the everlasting refreshment and renewal.
JOHN GALSWORTHY -
Everything we say and do and think has its effect on everything around us.
JOHN GALSWORTHY -
For the first time, as a family, they appeared to have an instinct of being in contact, with some strange and unsafe thing.
JOHN GALSWORTHY -
The young man who, at the end of September, 1924, dismounted from a taxicab in South Square,
JOHN GALSWORTHY -
The beginnings and endings of all human undertakings are untidy.
JOHN GALSWORTHY -
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 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 -
Life calls the tune, we dance.
JOHN GALSWORTHY -
The talked-about is always the last to hear the talk . . .
JOHN GALSWORTHY -
We have to love because we love loving.
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