I can never decide whether my dreams are the result of my thoughts or my thoughts the result of my dreams.
D. H. LAWRENCEBe a good animal,true to your instincts.
More D. H. Lawrence Quotes
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Don’t you find it a beautiful clean thought, a world empty of people, just uninterrupted grass, and a hare sitting up?
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Be still when you have nothing to say; when genuine passion moves you, say what you’ve got to say, and say it hot.
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I want to live my life so that my nights are not full of regrets.
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I never saw a wild thing sorry for itself
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For God’s sake, all of you, say spiteful things about me, then I shall know I mean something to you. Don’t say surgaries, or I’m done.
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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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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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Sleep is still most perfect, in spite of hygienists, when it is shared with a beloved.
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For my part, I prefer my heart to be broken. It is so lovely, dawn-kaleidoscopic within the crack.
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That’s the place to get to – nowhere. One wants to wander away from the world’s somewheres, into our own nowhere.
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Life is ours to be spent, not to be saved.
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The human soul needs beauty more than bread.
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As we all know, too much of any divine thing is destruction
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There is no pornography without a secrecy.
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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 fear my enthusiasm flags when real work is demanded of me.
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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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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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Recklessness is almost a man’s revenge on his woman.
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Perhaps only people who are capable of real togetherness have that look of being alone in the universe. The others have a certain stickiness, they stick to the mass.
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She was always waiting, it seemed to be her forte.
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It’s not art for art’s sake, it’s art for my sake.
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The beautiful pure freedom of a woman was infinitely more wonderful than any sexual love.
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A little morphine in all the air. It would be wonderfully refreshing for everyone.
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Sometimes life takes hold of one, carries the body along, accomplishes one’s history, and yet is not real, but leaves oneself as it were slurred over.
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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.
D. H. LAWRENCE