That’s how women are with me said Paul. They want me like mad but they don’t want to belong to me.
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.
More D. H. Lawrence Quotes
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He worked very hard, till nothing lived in him but his eyes.
D. H. LAWRENCE -
I fear my enthusiasm flags when real work is demanded of me.
D. H. LAWRENCE -
The human being is a most curious creature. He thinks he has got one soul, and he has got dozens.
D. H. LAWRENCE -
For to desire is better than to possess, the finality of the end was dreaded as deeply as it was desired.
D. H. LAWRENCE -
Be a good animal,true to your instincts.
D. H. LAWRENCE -
When we really want to go for something better, we shall smash the old. Until then, any sort of proposal, or making proposals, is no more than a tiresome game for self-important people.
D. H. LAWRENCE -
If only there weren’t so many other people in the world,’ he said lugubriously.
D. H. LAWRENCE -
The essential American soul is hard, isolate, stoic, and a killer. It has never yet melted.
D. H. LAWRENCE -
How she loved to listen when he thought only the horse could hear.
D. H. LAWRENCE -
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.
D. H. LAWRENCE -
He knew that conscience was chiefly fear of society or fear of oneself.
D. H. LAWRENCE -
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 -
I am part of the sun as my eye is of me. That I am part of the earth my feet know perfectly, and my blood is part of the sea.
D. H. LAWRENCE -
And besides, look at elder flowers and bluebells-they are a sign that pure creation takes place – even the butterfly.
D. H. LAWRENCE -
That’s the place to get to – nowhere. One wants to wander away from the world’s somewheres, into our own nowhere.
D. H. LAWRENCE