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. LAWRENCEShe would have thought a woman would have died of shame. Instead of which, the shame died.
More D. H. Lawrence Quotes
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She was always waiting, it seemed to be her forte.
D. H. LAWRENCE -
Vitally, the human race is dying. It is like a great uprooted tree, with its roots in the air. We must plant ourselves again in the universe.
D. H. LAWRENCE -
You love me so much, you want to put me in your pocket. And there I will die smothered.
D. H. LAWRENCE -
There’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. LAWRENCE -
She would have thought a woman would have died of shame. Instead of which, the shame died.
D. H. LAWRENCE -
Their 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. LAWRENCE -
Sometimes life takes hold of one, carries the body along, accomplishes one’s history, and yet is not real, but leaves oneself as it were slurred over.
D. H. LAWRENCE -
Never trust the teller, trust the tale. The proper function of a critic is to save the tale from the artist who created it.
D. H. LAWRENCE -
Give up bearing children and bear hope and love and devotion to those already born.
D. H. LAWRENCE -
I fear my enthusiasm flags when real work is demanded of me.
D. H. LAWRENCE -
He worked very hard, till nothing lived in him but his eyes.
D. H. LAWRENCE -
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 -
I want to live my life so that my nights are not full of regrets.
D. H. LAWRENCE -
I can never decide whether my dreams are the result of my thoughts or my thoughts the result of my dreams.
D. H. LAWRENCE -
The essential American soul is hard, isolate, stoic, and a killer. It has never yet melted.
D. H. LAWRENCE