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[U-V] [W-Z]LitQuotes found 25 quotes from The Forsyte Saga  |
| Quote | Author | Source | Email Quote |
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| . . . Love is no 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 Galsworthy | The Forsyte Saga |  | | . . . early morning does not mince words . . . | John Galsworthy | The Forsyte Saga | | | As for the law--it catered for a human nature of which it took a naturally low view. | John Galsworthy | The Forsyte Saga | | | "Love has no age, no limit; and no death." | John Galsworthy | The Forsyte Saga | | | "I'm bad," he said, pouting--"been bad all the week; don't sleep at night. The doctor can't tell why. He's a clever fellow, or I shouldn't have him, but I get nothing out of him but bills." | John Galsworthy | The Forsyte Saga | | | And he continued to stare at her, afflicted by the thought that where Beauty was, nothing ever ran quite straight, which, no doubt, was why so many people looked on it as immoral. | John Galsworthy | The Forsyte Saga | | | . . . as he had often forcibly argued, all experience tended to show that a man must die; and whether he died of a miserable old age in his own country, or prematurely of damp in the bottom of a foreign mine, was surely of little consequence, provided that by a change in his mode of life he benefited the British Empire. | John Galsworthy | The Forsyte Saga | | | . . . it is always the unusual which alarms . . . | John Galsworthy | The Forsyte Saga | | | He was frightened by the effect he had produced, and like most men with but little courage, he sought at once to justify himself by bullying. | John Galsworthy | The Forsyte Saga | | | 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 | The Forsyte Saga | |
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