He worked very hard, till nothing lived in him but his eyes.
D. H. LAWRENCELove is never a fulfillment. Life is never a thing of continuous bliss. There is no paradise. Fight and laugh and feel bitter and feel bliss: and fight again. Fight, fight. That is life.
More D. H. Lawrence Quotes
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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.
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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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When I hear modern people complain of being lonely then I know what has happened. They have lost the cosmos.
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Nobody knows you. You don’t know yourself. And I, who am half in love with you, What am I in love with? My own imaginings?
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Money poisons you when you’ve got it, and starves you when you haven’t.
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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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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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But 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.
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The only rule is, do what you really, impulsively, wish to do. But always act on your own responsibility, sincerely. And have the courage of your own strong emotion.
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If I were the moon, I know where I would fall down.
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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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Recklessness is almost a man’s revenge on his woman.
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They stood together in a false intimacy, a nervous contact. And he was in love with her.
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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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Instead of chopping yourself down to fit the world, chop the world down to fit yourself.
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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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Life is ours to be spent, not to be saved.
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Those that go searching for love only make manifest their own lovelessness, and the loveless never find love, only the loving find love, and they never have to seek for it.
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For to desire is better than to possess, the finality of the end was dreaded as deeply as it was desired.
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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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A woman unsatisfied must have luxuries. But a woman who loves a man would sleep on a board
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That’s how women are with me said Paul. They want me like mad but they don’t want to belong to me.
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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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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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The human being is a most curious creature. He thinks he has got one soul, and he has got dozens.
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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