Quotes and Images From the Works of John Galsworthy. Galsworthy John

      Attack his fleas – though he was supposed to have none

      Dogs: with rudiments of altruism and a sense of God

      Don't hurt others more than is absolutely necessary

      Early morning does not mince words

      Era which had canonised hypocrisy

      Forgiven me; but she could never forget

      Health – He did not want it at such cost

      Is anything more pathetic than the faith of the young?

      Law takes a low view of human nature

      Let her come to me as she will, when she will, not at all if she will not

      Love has no age, no limit; and no death

      Never to see yourself as others see you

      Old men learn to forego their whims

      People who don't live are wonderfully preserved

      Perching-place; never – never her cage!

      Putting up a brave show of being natural

      Socialists: they want our goods

      Thank you for that good lie

      To seem to be respectable was to be

      You have to buy experience

      The simple truth, which underlies the whole story, that where sex attraction is utterly and definitely lacking in one partner to a union, no amount of pity, or reason, or duty, or what not, can overcome a repulsion implicit in

      Nature.

      The tragedy of whose life is the very simple, uncontrollable tragedy of being unlovable, without quite a thick enough skin to be thoroughly unconscious of the fact. Not even

      Fleur loves Soames as he feels he ought to be loved. But in pitying Soames, readers incline, perhaps, to animus against

      Irene: After all, they think, he wasn't a bad fellow, it wasn't his fault; she ought to have forgiven him, and so on!

      "Let the dead Past bury its dead" would be a better saying if the Past ever died. The persistence of the Past is one of those tragi-comic blessings which each new age denies, coming cocksure on to the stage to mouth its claim to a perfect novelty.

      The figure of Irene, never, as the reader may possibly have observed, present, except through the senses of other characters, is a concretion of disturbing Beauty impinging on a possessive world.

      She turned back into the drawing-room; but in a minute came out, and stood as if listening. Then she came stealing up the stairs, with a kitten in her arms. He could see her face bent over the little beast, which was purring against her neck. Why couldn't she look at him like that?

      But though the impingement of Beauty and the claims of

      Freedom on a possessive world are the main prepossessions of the Forsyte Saga, it cannot be absolved from the charge of embalming the upper-middle class.

      When a Forsyte was engaged, married, or born, the Forsytes were present; when a Forsyte died – but no Forsyte had as yet died; they did not die; death being contrary to their principles, they took precautions against it, the instinctive precautions of highly vitalized persons who resent encroachments on their property.

      "It's my opinion," he said unexpectedly, "that it's just as well as it is."

      The eldest by some years of all the Forsytes, she held a peculiar position amongst them. Opportunists and egotists one and all – though not, indeed, more so than their neighbours – they quailed before her incorruptible figure, and, when opportunities were too strong, what could they do but avoid her!

      "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."

      There was little sentimentality about the Forsytes. In that great London, which they had conquered and become merged in, what time had they to be sentimental?

      A moment passed, and young Jolyon, turning on his heel, marched out at the door. He could hardly see; his smile quavered. Never in all the fifteen years since he had first found out that life was no simple business, had he found it so singularly complicated.

      As in all self-respecting families, an emporium had been established where family secrets were bartered, and family stock priced. It was known on Forsyte 'Change that Irene regretted her marriage. Her regret was disapproved of. She ought to have known her own mind; no dependable woman made these mistakes.

      Out of his other property, out of all the things he had collected, his silver, his pictures, his houses, his investments, he got a secret and intimate feeling; out of her he got none.

      Of all those whom this strange rumour about Bosinney and

      Mrs. Soames reached, James was the most affected. He had long forgotten how he had hovered, lanky and pale, in side whiskers of chestnut hue, round Emily, in the days of his own courtship. He had long forgotten the small house in the purlieus of Mayfair, where he had spent the early days of his married life, or rather, he had long forgotten the early days, not the small house, – a Forsyte never forgot a house – he had afterwards sold it at a clear profit of four hundred pounds.

      And those countless Forsytes, who, in the course of innumerable transactions concerned with property of all sorts (from wives to water rights)…

      "I now move, 'That the report and accounts for the year 1886

      be received and adopted.' You second that? Those in favour signify the same in the usual way. Contrary – no.

      Carried. The next business, gentlemen…" Soames smiled.

      Certainly Uncle Jolyon had a way with him!

      Forces regardless of family or class or custom were beating down his guard; impending events over which he had no control threw their shadows on his head. The irritation of one accustomed to have his way was, roused against he knew not what.

      "We are, of course, all of us the slaves of property, and I

      admit that it's a question of degree, but what I call a

      'Forsyte' is a man who is decidedly more than less a slave of property. He knows a good thing, he knows a safe thing, and his grip on property – it doesn't matter whether it be wives, houses, money, or reputation – is his hall-

      mark." – "Ah!" murmured Bosinney. "You should patent the word." – "I should like," said young Jolyon, "to lecture on it: 'Properties and quality of a Forsyte': This little animal, disturbed by the ridicule of his own sort, is unaffected in his motions