When I hear modern people complain of being lonely then I know what has happened. They have lost the cosmos.
D. H. LAWRENCEHow she loved to listen when he thought only the horse could hear.
More D. H. Lawrence Quotes
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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.
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A woman unsatisfied must have luxuries. But a woman who loves a man would sleep on a board
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Only youth has a taste of immortality.
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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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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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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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Every true artist is the salvation of every other. Only artists produce for each other a world that is fit to live in.
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Sleep is still most perfect, in spite of hygienists, when it is shared with a beloved.
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Perhaps only those people who are capable of real togetherness have that look of being alone in the world.
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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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A man could no longer be private and withdrawn. The world allows no hermits.
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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.
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One must learn to love, and go through a good deal of suffering to get to it, and the journey is always towards the other soul.
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The dead don’t die. They look on and help.
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Give up bearing children and bear hope and love and devotion to those already born.
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There is nothing to save, now all is lost, but a tiny core of stillness in the heart like the eye of a violet.
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If only there weren’t so many other people in the world,’ he said lugubriously.
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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.
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But better die than live mechanically a life that is a repetition of repetitions.
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Money poisons you when you’ve got it, and starves you when you haven’t.
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We’ve got to live, no matter how many skies have fallen.
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Perhaps only people who are capable of real togetherness have that look of being alone in the universe. The others have a certain stickiness, they stick to the mass.
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You can’t insure against the future, except by really believing in the best bit of you, and in the power beyond it.
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I would rather sit still in a state of peace on a stone than ride in the motor-car of a multi-millionaire and feel the peacelessness of the multi-millionaire poisoning me.
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I don’t want the corpses of flowers about me.
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There is no pornography without a secrecy.
D. H. LAWRENCE