This is the very worst wickedness, that we refuse to acknowledge the passionate evil that is in us.
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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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.
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Instead of chopping yourself down to fit the world, chop the world down to fit yourself.
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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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She would have thought a woman would have died of shame. Instead of which, the shame died.
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She thought she loved, she thought she was full of love.
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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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The human being is a most curious creature. He thinks he has got one soul, and he has got dozens.
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She was always waiting, it seemed to be her forte.
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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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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.
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You’re spending your life without renewing it. You’ve got to be amused, properly healthily amused. You’re spending your vitality without making any. Can’t go on you know. Depression! Avoid depression!
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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.
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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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Recklessness is almost a man’s revenge on his woman.
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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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Mankind has got to get back to the rhythm of the cosmos.
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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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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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What liars poets and everybody were! They made one think one wanted sentiment. When what one supremely wanted was this piercing, consuming, rather awful sensuality.
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The human soul needs beauty more than bread.
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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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Never was an age more sentimental, more devoid of real feeling, more exaggerated in false feeling, than our own.
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And besides, look at elder flowers and bluebells-they are a sign that pure creation takes place – even the butterfly.
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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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I 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 -
Every true artist is the salvation of every other. Only artists produce for each other a world that is fit to live in.
D. H. LAWRENCE