Light-heartedness always made Soames suspicious - there was generally some reason for it.
John GalsworthyIdealism increases in direct proportion to one’s distance from the problem.
John GalsworthyPentru tanarul Lennan urma apoi o perioada stranie, in care nu-si dadea seama de la un minut la altul daca era sau nu fericit, cautand sa fie mereu cu Anna, agitandu-se daca nu reusea, necajindu-se daca ea vorbea sau zambea altuia;cand se afla insa alaturi de ea tot nelinistit si nemultumit era, suferind din pricina timiditatii sale
John GalsworthyOne's eyes are what one is, one's mouth is what one becomes.
John GalsworthyLove! Beyond meaure - beyond death - it nearly kills. But one wouldn't have been without it.
John GalsworthyMen are in fact, quite unable to control their own inventions; they at best develop adaptability to the new conditions those inventions create.
John GalsworthyStichwörter: progress
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. A wild plant that, when it blooms by chance within the hedge of our gardens, we call a flower; and when it blooms outside we call a weed; but, flower or weed, whose scent and colour are always, wild!
John GalsworthyYouth to youth, like the dragon-flies chasing each other, and love like the sun warming them through and through.
John GalsworthyLife calls the tune, we dance.
John GalsworthyStichwörter: choice determinism freedom fate will free
Beauty means this to one person, perhaps, and that to another. And yet when any one of us has seen or heard or read that which to him is beautiful, he has known an emotion which is in every case the same in kind, if not in degree; an emotion precious and uplifting. A choirboy's voice, a ship in sail, an opening flower, a town at night, the song of the blackbird, a lovely poem, leaf shadows, a child's grace, the starry skies, a cathedral, apple trees in spring, a thorough-bred horse, sheep-bells on a hill, a rippling stream, a butterfly, the crescent moon -- the thousand sights or sounds or words that evoke in us the thought of beauty -- these are the drops of rain that keep the human spirit from death by drought. They are a stealing and a silent refreshment that we perhaps do not think about but which goes on all the time....It would surprise any of us if we realized how much store we unconsciously set by beauty, and how little savour there would be left in life if it were withdrawn. It is the smile on the earth's face, open to all, and needs but the eyes to see, the mood to understand.
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