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.
D. H. LAWRENCEThey lived freely among the students, they argued with the men over philosophical, sociological and artistic matters, they were just as good as the men themselves: only better, since they were women.
More D. H. Lawrence Quotes
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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!
D. H. LAWRENCE -
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 don’t want the corpses of flowers about me.
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 -
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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Sleep is still most perfect, in spite of hygienists, when it is shared with a beloved.
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 -
Love is never a fulfillment. Life is never a thing of continuous bliss. There is no paradise. Fight and laugh and feel bitter and feel bliss: and fight again. Fight, fight. That is life.
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It’s not art for art’s sake, it’s art for my sake.
D. H. LAWRENCE -
Instead of chopping yourself down to fit the world, chop the world down to fit yourself.
D. H. LAWRENCE -
Be sure your sins will find you out, especially if you’re married and her name’s Bertha.
D. H. LAWRENCE -
I like to write when I feel spiteful. It is like having a good sneeze.
D. H. LAWRENCE -
I want to live my life so that my nights are not full of regrets.
D. H. LAWRENCE -
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.
D. H. LAWRENCE -
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