That’s how women are with me said Paul. They want me like mad but they don’t want to belong to me.
D. H. LAWRENCEBut humanity never gets beyond the caterpillar stage -it rots in the chrysalis, it never will have wings.It is anti-creation, like monkeys and baboons.
More D. H. Lawrence Quotes
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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.
D. H. LAWRENCE -
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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And besides, look at elder flowers and bluebells-they are a sign that pure creation takes place – even the butterfly.
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Vitally, the human race is dying. It is like a great uprooted tree, with its roots in the air. We must plant ourselves again in the universe.
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But better die than live mechanically a life that is a repetition of repetitions.
D. H. LAWRENCE -
We fucked a flame into being.
D. H. LAWRENCE -
I never saw a wild thing sorry for itself. A small bird will drop frozen dead from a bough without ever having felt sorry for itself.
D. H. LAWRENCE -
Mankind has got to get back to the rhythm of the cosmos.
D. H. LAWRENCE -
How she loved to listen when he thought only the horse could hear.
D. H. LAWRENCE -
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.
D. H. LAWRENCE -
They stood together in a false intimacy, a nervous contact. And he was in love with her.
D. H. LAWRENCE -
Don’t you find it a beautiful clean thought, a world empty of people, just uninterrupted grass, and a hare sitting up?
D. H. LAWRENCE -
That’s the place to get to – nowhere. One wants to wander away from the world’s somewheres, into our own nowhere.
D. H. LAWRENCE -
Be a good animal,true to your instincts.
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But the act, called the sexual act, is not for the depositing of seed. It is for leaping off into the unknown, as from a cliff’s edge, like Sappho into the sea.
D. H. LAWRENCE







