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. 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.
More D. H. Lawrence Quotes
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If a woman hasn’t got a tiny streak of harlot in her, she’s a dry stick as a rule.
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She would have thought a woman would have died of shame. Instead of which, the shame died.
D. H. LAWRENCE -
One sheds ones sickness in books- repeats and presents again ones emotions, to be master of them.
D. H. LAWRENCE -
She was always waiting, it seemed to be her forte.
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What the eye doesn’t see and the mind doesn’t know, doesn’t exist.
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When I hear modern people complain of being lonely then I know what has happened. They have lost the cosmos.
D. H. LAWRENCE -
He worked very hard, till nothing lived in him but his eyes.
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I don’t want the corpses of flowers about me.
D. H. LAWRENCE -
Never was an age more sentimental, more devoid of real feeling, more exaggerated in false feeling, than our own.
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 -
We’ve got to live, no matter how many skies have fallen.
D. H. LAWRENCE -
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.
D. H. LAWRENCE -
If you could only tell them that living and spending isn’t the same thing! But it’s no good. If only they were educated to live instead of earn and spend, they could manage very happily.
D. H. LAWRENCE -
It 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. 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