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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

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Breathe Day Ineftable Man Painful Spring Such Sweetness Yeaning

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Love could never come to full fruition till it was destroyed.
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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.
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And to be stolen away from ourselves by Art is a momentary relaxation from that itching, a minute’s profound, and as it were secret, enfranchisement.
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The young man who, at the end of September, 1924, dismounted from a taxicab in South Square,
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Dreaming is the poetry of Life, and we must be forgiven if we indulge in it a little.
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The sense of form that both had in such high degree prevented much demonstration; but to be with him, do things for him, to admire, and credit him with perfection; and, since she could not exactly wear the same clothes or speak in the same clipped, quiet, decisive voice.
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Both Same Clothes Degree Demonstration Exactly High Prevent Same Voice
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.
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We are all familiar with the argument: Make war dreadful enough, and there will be no war. And we none of us believe it.
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Argument Believe Dreadful Enough Familiar Maske None War
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.
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The talked-about is always the last to hear the talk . . .
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I think the greatest thing in the world is to believe in people.
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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.
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The building of a house, the writing of a novel, the demolition of a bridge, and, eminently, the finish of a voyage.
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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

Breathe Day Ineftable Man Painful Spring Such Sweetness Yeaning
There are houses whose souls have passed into the limbo of Time, leaving their bodies in the limbo of London.
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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.
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