John Galsworthy

Love has no age, no limit; and no death.

Dreaming is the poetry of Life, and we must be forgiven if we indulge in it a little.

Idealism increases in direct proportion to one's distance from the problem.

We are all familiar with the argument: Make war dreadful enough, and there will be no war. And we none of us believe it.

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.

From behind a wooden crate we saw a long black-muzzled nose poking round at us. We took him out-soft, wobbly, tearful; set him down on his four, as yet not quite simultaneous legs, and regarded him. He wandered a little round our legs, neither wagging his tail nor licking at our hands; then he looked up, and my companion said: "He's an angel!"

By the cigars they smoke, and the composers they love, ye shall know the texture of men's souls.

Essential characteristics of a gentleman: The will to put himself in the place of others; the horror of forcing others into positions from which he would himself recoil; and the power to do what seems to him to be right without considering what others may say or think.

Not the least hard thing to bear when they go from us, these quiet friends, is that they carry away with them so many years of our own lives.

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!