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She thought she loved, she thought she was full of love.

D. H. Lawrence

Related Topics

HerselfLove

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  One could laugh at the world better if it didn’t mix tender kindliness with its brutality.

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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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  Recklessness is almost a man’s revenge on his woman.

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  All that we know is nothing, we are merely crammed wastepaper baskets,unless we are in touch with that which laughs at all our knowing.

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  He worked very hard, till nothing lived in him but his eyes.

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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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  Their words were only accidents in the mutual silence.

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  Now go away then, and leave me alone. I don’t want any more of your meretricious persiflage.

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  I would rather sit still in a state of peace on a stone than ride in the motor-car of a multi-millionaire and feel the peacelessness of the multi-millionaire poisoning me.

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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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  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.

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  The essential American soul is hard, isolate, stoic, and a killer. It has never yet melted.

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  As we all know, too much of any divine thing is destruction

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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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