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Their words were only accidents in the mutual silence.

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

Oneself Philsophy Place World
Life is ours to be spent, not to be saved.
D. H. LAWRENCE

Life One Liner Ourselves Save
I don’t want the corpses of flowers about me.
D. H. LAWRENCE

Death Flower Myself
For to desire is better than to possess, the finality of the end was dreaded as deeply as it was desired.
D. H. LAWRENCE

Deep Desire End Philosophy
You’re always begging things to love you, he said, as if you were a beggar for love. Even the flowers, you have to fawn on them–
D. H. LAWRENCE

Flower Love Yourself
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

Death Greatness Human Ourselves Race Tree
Their words were only accidents in the mutual silence.
D. H. LAWRENCE

Deep Relationship Silence Word
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.
D. H. LAWRENCE

Act Sea Sex
She was not herself–she was not anything. She was something that is going to be–soon–soon–very soon. But as yet, she was only imminent.
D. H. LAWRENCE

Be Yourself Change Herself Improvement
There is nothing to save, now all is lost, but a tiny core of stillness in the heart like the eye of a violet.
D. H. LAWRENCE

Flower Heart Lost Save
Obscenity only comes in when the mind despises and fears the body, and the body hates and resists the mind.
D. H. LAWRENCE

Body Fear Mindset Resistance
I can never decide whether my dreams are the result of my thoughts or my thoughts the result of my dreams.
D. H. LAWRENCE

Decision Deep Dream Myself Philosophy Result Thinking
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

Art Breathe Life Oneself
One sheds ones sickness in books- repeats and presents again ones emotions, to be master of them.
D. H. LAWRENCE

Book Emotion Present Sick
She would have thought a woman would have died of shame. Instead of which, the shame died.
D. H. LAWRENCE

Death Herself Shame Woman
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.
D. H. LAWRENCE

Forever Himself Hope Necessary Past Woman

Their words were only accidents in the mutual silence.

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Their words were only accidents in the mutual silence.

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