If only there weren’t so many other people in the world,’ he said lugubriously.
D. H. LAWRENCEIf only there weren’t so many other people in the world,’ he said lugubriously.
D. H. LAWRENCEIt 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.
D. H. LAWRENCEA man could no longer be private and withdrawn. The world allows no hermits.
D. H. LAWRENCERecklessness is almost a man’s revenge on his woman.
D. H. LAWRENCEI don’t want the corpses of flowers about me.
D. H. LAWRENCEAll 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.
D. H. LAWRENCEWhat the eye doesn’t see and the mind doesn’t know, doesn’t exist.
D. H. LAWRENCENever was an age more sentimental, more devoid of real feeling, more exaggerated in false feeling, than our own.
D. H. LAWRENCEThe human being is a most curious creature. He thinks he has got one soul, and he has got dozens.
D. H. LAWRENCEThere’s lots of good fish in the sea, maybe, but the vast masses seem to be mackerel or herring, and if you’re not mackerel or herring yourself, you are likely to find very few good fish in the sea.
D. H. LAWRENCEThey lived freely among the students, they argued with the men over philosophical, sociological and artistic matters, they were just as good as the men themselves: only better, since they were women.
D. H. LAWRENCEPerhaps only those people who are capable of real togetherness have that look of being alone in the world.
D. H. LAWRENCEI want to live my life so that my nights are not full of regrets.
D. H. LAWRENCEMoney poisons you when you’ve got it, and starves you when you haven’t.
D. H. LAWRENCEDon’t you find it a beautiful clean thought, a world empty of people, just uninterrupted grass, and a hare sitting up?
D. H. LAWRENCEI never saw a wild thing sorry for itself. A small bird will drop frozen dead from a bough without ever having felt sorry for itself.
D. H. LAWRENCE