There’s lots of good fish in the sea, maybe, but the vast masses seem to be mackerel or herring, and if you’re not mackerel or herring yourself, you are likely to find very few good fish in the sea.
D. H. LAWRENCELove is never a fulfillment. Life is never a thing of continuous bliss. There is no paradise. Fight and laugh and feel bitter and feel bliss: and fight again. Fight, fight. That is life.
More D. H. Lawrence Quotes
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You can’t insure against the future, except by really believing in the best bit of you, and in the power beyond it.
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Perhaps only those people who are capable of real togetherness have that look of being alone in the world.
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She was always waiting, it seemed to be her forte.
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You’re spending your life without renewing it. You’ve got to be amused, properly healthily amused. You’re spending your vitality without making any. Can’t go on you know. Depression! Avoid depression!
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Nobody knows you. You don’t know yourself. And I, who am half in love with you, What am I in love with? My own imaginings?
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The beautiful pure freedom of a woman was infinitely more wonderful than any sexual love.
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Things men have made with wakened hands, and put soft life into are awake through years with transferred touch, and go on glowing for long years.
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He worked very hard, till nothing lived in him but his eyes.
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Recklessness is almost a man’s revenge on his woman.
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What liars poets and everybody were! They made one think one wanted sentiment. When what one supremely wanted was this piercing, consuming, rather awful sensuality.
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There is nothing to save, now all is lost, but a tiny core of stillness in the heart like the eye of a violet.
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It is a fine thing to establish one’s own religion in one’s heart, not to be dependent on tradition and second-hand ideals. Life will seem to you, later, not a lesser, but a greater thing.
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A woman unsatisfied must have luxuries. But a woman who loves a man would sleep on a board
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When we really want to go for something better, we shall smash the old. Until then, any sort of proposal, or making proposals, is no more than a tiresome game for self-important people.
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She thought she loved, she thought she was full of love.
D. H. LAWRENCE