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.
D. H. LAWRENCEAll that we know is nothing, we are merely crammed wastepaper baskets,unless we are in touch with that which laughs at all our knowing.
D. H. LAWRENCEAs we all know, too much of any divine thing is destruction
D. H. LAWRENCEYou’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–
D. H. LAWRENCERecklessness is almost a man’s revenge on his woman.
D. H. LAWRENCEWhat 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. LAWRENCENever was an age more sentimental, more devoid of real feeling, more exaggerated in false feeling, than our own.
D. H. LAWRENCEThere 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. LAWRENCEThe beautiful pure freedom of a woman was infinitely more wonderful than any sexual love.
D. H. LAWRENCEPerhaps 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.
D. H. LAWRENCEHow she loved to listen when he thought only the horse could hear.
D. H. LAWRENCEIf I were the moon, I know where I would fall down.
D. H. LAWRENCEA woman unsatisfied must have luxuries. But a woman who loves a man would sleep on a board
D. H. LAWRENCEBut better die than live mechanically a life that is a repetition of repetitions.
D. H. LAWRENCETheir whole life depends on spending money, and now they’ve got none to spend. That’s our civilization and our education: bring up the masses to depend entirely on spending money, and then the money gives out.
D. H. LAWRENCEA man could no longer be private and withdrawn. The world allows no hermits.
D. H. LAWRENCEOne 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.
D. H. LAWRENCE