English Quotes

Headlines twice the size of the events.

When Man evolved Pity, he did a queer thing - deprived himself of the power of living life as it is without wishing it to become something different.

If you do not think about your future, you cannot have one.

He was 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.

A man is the sum of his actions, of what he has done, of what he can do, Nothing else.

One's eyes are what one is, one's mouth is what one becomes.

A man of action forced into a state of thought is unhappy until he can get out of it.

Beginnings are always messy.

The beginnings and endings of all human undertakings are untidy.

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

Wild oats will get sown some time, and one of the arts of life is to sow them at the right time.

We have, of course, long since ceased to think of Nature as the sympathetic mirror of our moods, or to imagine that she has any concern with the temporal affairs of man.

We are all treading the vanishing road of a song in the air, the vanishing road of the spring flowers and the winter snows, the vanishing roads of the winds and the streams, the vanishing road of beloved faces.

We also maintain - again with perfect truth - that mystery is more than half of beauty, the element of strangeness that stirs the senses through the imagination.

Though actually the work of man's hands - or, more properly speaking, the work of his travelling feet, - roads have long since come to seem so much a part of Nature that we have grown to think of them as a feature of the landscape no less natural than rocks and trees.

The spiritual element, the really important part of religion, has no concern with Time and Space, temporary mundane laws, or conduct.

The beauty we love is very silent. It smiles softly to itself, but never speaks.

Races and nations are thus ever ready to believe the worst of one another.

Perhaps we too seldom reflect how much the life of Nature is one with the life of man, how unimportant or indeed merely seeming, the difference between them.

Organized Christianity has probably done more to retard the ideals that were its founder's than any other agency in the world.

More and more the world is growing to love a lover, and one has only to read the newspapers to see how sympathetic are the times to any generous and adventurous display of the passions.

Modern science, then, so far from being an enemy of romance, is seen on every hand to be its sympathetic and resourceful friend, its swift and irresistible helper in its serious need, and an indulgent minister to its lighter fancies.

It is the fine excesses of life that make it worth living.

It is curious how, from time immemorial, man seems to have associated the idea of evil with beauty, shrunk from it with a sort of ghostly fear, while, at the same time drawn to it by force of its hypnotic attraction.

In their work, then, as in their play, men and women are more and more coming to share with each other as comrades, and really the fun of life seems in no wise diminished as a consequence.

Be it whim or emergency, the modern laboratory is equally at the service of romance, equally ready to gratify mankind with a torpedo or a toy.

All roads indeed lead to Rome, but theirs also is a more mystical destination, some bourne of which no traveller knows the name, some city, they all seem to hint, even more eternal.

All religions have periods in their history which are looked back to with retrospective fear and trembling as eras of persecution, and each religion has its own book of martyrs.

All myths that are something more than fancies gain rather than lose in value with time, by reason of the accretions of human experience.

A woman's beauty is one of her great missions.