John Galsworthy
John Galsworthy
John Galsworthy OMwas an English novelist and playwright. Notable works include The Forsyte Sagaand its sequels, A Modern Comedy and End of the Chapter. He won the Nobel Prize in Literature in 1932...
NationalityEnglish
ProfessionAuthor
Date of Birth14 August 1867
wine air feet
There are houses whose souls have passed into the limbo of Time, leaving their bodies in the limbo of London. Such was not quite the condition of Timothy's on the Bayswater Road, for Timothy's soul still had one foot in Timothy Forsyte's body, and Smither kept the atmosphere unchanging, of camphor and port wine and house whose windows are only opened to air it twice a day.
wish might world
He might wish and wish and never get it - the beauty and the loving in the world!
wine drug dull
I drink the wine of aspiration and the drug of illusion. Thus I am never dull.
men facts invention
Men are in fact, quite unable to control their own inventions; they at best develop adaptability to the new conditions those inventions create.
sky tilt safe
Come! Let us lay a lance in rest, And tilt at windmills under a wild sky! 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!
tin cooks
The French cook; we open tins.
change men matter
Matters change and morals change; men remain.
art real men
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. It is the continual, unconscious replacement, however fleeting, of oneself by another; the real cement of human life; the everlasting refreshment and renewal. For, what is grievous, dompting, grim, about our lives is that we are shut up within ourselves, with an itch to get outside ourselves. 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.
love soul only-love
Only love makes fruitful the soul.
spring men may
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.
dream indulge-in littles
Dreaming is the poetry of Life, and we must be forgiven if we indulge in it a little.
war believe argument
We are all familiar with the argument: Make war dreadful enough, and there will be no war. And we none of us believe it.
hurt persons
It`s always worth while before you do anything to consider whether it`s going to hurt another person more than is absolutely necessary.
memories deeds corpses
Memory heaps dead leaves on corpse-like deeds, from under which they do but vaguely offend the sense.