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.
D. H. LAWRENCEThere’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.
More D. H. Lawrence Quotes
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She was always waiting, it seemed to be her forte.
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Man is a mistake. He must go.
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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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Sleep is still most perfect, in spite of hygienists, when it is shared with a beloved.
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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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Give up bearing children and bear hope and love and devotion to those already born.
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I want to live my life so that my nights are not full of regrets.
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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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How she hated words, always coming between her and her life: they did the ravishing, if anything did: ready-made words and phrases, sucking all the live-sap out of living things.
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I never saw a wild thing sorry for itself
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A little morphine in all the air. It would be wonderfully refreshing for everyone.
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She thought she loved, she thought she was full of love.
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Recklessness is almost a man’s revenge on his woman.
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Used to all kinds of society, she watched people as one reads the pages of a novel, with a certain disinterested amusement.
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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.
D. H. LAWRENCE