The beautiful pure freedom of a woman was infinitely more wonderful than any sexual love.
D. H. LAWRENCEHe 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.
More D. H. Lawrence Quotes
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How she loved to listen when he thought only the horse could hear.
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Obscenity only comes in when the mind despises and fears the body, and the body hates and resists the mind.
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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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Sleep is still most perfect, in spite of hygienists, when it is shared with a beloved.
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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?
D. H. LAWRENCE -
This is the very worst wickedness, that we refuse to acknowledge the passionate evil that is in us.
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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 better die than live mechanically a life that is a repetition of repetitions.
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You love me so much, you want to put me in your pocket. And there I will die smothered.
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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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I love trying things and discovering how I hate them.
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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.
D. H. LAWRENCE -
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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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.
D. H. LAWRENCE -
The novel is the one bright book of life. Books are not life. They are only tremulations on the ether. But the novel as a tremulation can make the whole man alive tremble.
D. H. LAWRENCE