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 GALSWORTHYArt is the one form of human energy in the whole world, which really works for union, and destroys the barriers between man and man.
More John Galsworthy Quotes
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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 -
Beginnings are always messy.
JOHN GALSWORTHY -
Headlines twice the size of the events.
JOHN GALSWORTHY -
Only love makes fruitful the soul.
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 young man who, at the end of September, 1924, dismounted from a taxicab in South Square,
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 -
Art is the one form of human energy in the whole world, which really works for union, and destroys the barriers between man and man.
JOHN GALSWORTHY -
It isn’t enough to love people because they’re good to you, or because in some way or other you’re going to get something by it.
JOHN GALSWORTHY -
One’s eyes are what one is, one’s mouth is what one becomes.
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 -
How to save the old that’s worth saving, whether in landscape, houses, manners, institutions, or human types, is one of our greatest problems, and the one that we bother least about.
JOHN GALSWORTHY -
We have to love because we love loving.
JOHN GALSWORTHY -
There 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.
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