He Was Afflicted By The Thought That

How To Save The Old That's Worth Saving, Whether In Landscape, Houses, Manners, Institutions, Or Human Types, Is One Of Our Greatest Problems, And The One That We Bother Least About.

Love Could Never Come To Full Fruition Till It Was Destroyed.

It's Not Life That Counts But The Fortitude You Bring Into It.

There Are Houses Whose Souls Have Passed Into The Limbo Of Time, Leaving Their Bodies In The Limbo Of London. Such Was Not Quite The Condition Of Timothy's On The Bayswater Road, For Timothy's Soul Still Had One Foot In Timothy Forsyte's Body, And Smither Kept The Atmosphere Unchanging, Of Camphor And Port Wine And House Whose Windows Are Only Opened To Air It Twice A Day.

The Forsytes Were Resentful Of Something, Not Individually, But As A Family; This Resentment Expressed Itself In An Added Perfection Of Raiment, An Exuberance Of Family Cordiality, An Exaggeration Of Family Importance, And The Sniff. Danger So Indispensable In Bringing Out The Fundamental Quality Of Any Society, Group, Or Individual Was What The Forsytes Scented; The Premonition Of Danger Put A Burnish On Their Armour. For The First Time, As A Family, They Appeared To Have An Instinct Of Being In Contact, With Some Strange And Unsafe Thing.