She would have thought a woman would have died of shame. Instead of which, the shame died.
D. H. LAWRENCEWe’ve got to live, no matter how many skies have fallen.
More D. H. Lawrence Quotes
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If I were the moon, I know where I would fall down.
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And besides, look at elder flowers and bluebells-they are a sign that pure creation takes place – even the butterfly.
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I never saw a wild thing sorry for itself
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Be a good animal,true to your instincts.
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She was not herself–she was not anything. She was something that is going to be–soon–soon–very soon. But as yet, she was only imminent.
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Love 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.
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For to desire is better than to possess, the finality of the end was dreaded as deeply as it was desired.
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Never trust the teller, trust the tale. The proper function of a critic is to save the tale from the artist who created it.
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Obscenity only comes in when the mind despises and fears the body, and the body hates and resists the mind.
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Sleep is still most perfect, in spite of hygienists, when it is shared with a beloved.
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Those that go searching for love only make manifest their own lovelessness, and the loveless never find love, only the loving find love, and they never have to seek for it.
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If a woman hasn’t got a tiny streak of harlot in her, she’s a dry stick as a rule.
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He felt he had lost it for good, he knew what it was to have been in communication with her, and to be cast off again. In misery, his heart like a heavy stone, he went about unliving.
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Instead of chopping yourself down to fit the world, chop the world down to fit yourself.
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I like to write when I feel spiteful. It is like having a good sneeze.
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If you could only tell them that living and spending isn’t the same thing! But it’s no good. If only they were educated to live instead of earn and spend, they could manage very happily.
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What one does in one’s art, that is the breath of one’s being. What one does in one’s life, that is a bagatelle for the outsiders to fuss about.
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You’re always begging things to love you, he said, as if you were a beggar for love. Even the flowers, you have to fawn on them–
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Recklessness is almost a man’s revenge on his woman.
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If only there weren’t so many other people in the world,’ he said lugubriously.
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Every true artist is the salvation of every other. Only artists produce for each other a world that is fit to live in.
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Only youth has a taste of immortality.
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Their words were only accidents in the mutual silence.
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I can never decide whether my dreams are the result of my thoughts or my thoughts the result of my dreams.
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I fear my enthusiasm flags when real work is demanded of me.
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It’s not art for art’s sake, it’s art for my sake.
D. H. LAWRENCE