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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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  Sleep is still most perfect, in spite of hygienists, when it is shared with a beloved.

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  It is a fine thing to establish one’s own religion in one’s heart, not to be dependent on tradition and second-hand ideals. Life will seem to you, later, not a lesser, but a greater thing.

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• 

  One sheds ones sickness in books- repeats and presents again ones emotions, to be master of them.

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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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• 

  And besides, look at elder flowers and bluebells-they are a sign that pure creation takes place – even the butterfly.

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• 

  The human soul needs beauty more than bread.

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• 

  One must learn to love, and go through a good deal of suffering to get to it, and the journey is always towards the other soul.

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• 

  The dead don’t die. They look on and help.

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• 

  You’re spending your life without renewing it. You’ve got to be amused, properly healthily amused. You’re spending your vitality without making any. Can’t go on you know. Depression! Avoid depression!

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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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• 

  The beautiful pure freedom of a woman was infinitely more wonderful than any sexual love.

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• 

  Man is a mistake. He must go.

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• 

  All hopes of eternity and all gain from the past he would have given to have her there, to be wrapped warm with him in one blanket, and sleep, only sleep. It seemed the sleep with the woman in his arms was the only necessity.

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• 

  She would have thought a woman would have died of shame. Instead of which, the shame died.

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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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• 

  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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