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.
D. H. LAWRENCEHe worked very hard, till nothing lived in him but his eyes.
More D. H. Lawrence Quotes
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But better die than live mechanically a life that is a repetition of repetitions.
D. H. LAWRENCE -
A man could no longer be private and withdrawn. The world allows no hermits.
D. H. LAWRENCE -
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. LAWRENCE -
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 -
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 -
The world is a raving idiot, and no man can kill it: though I’ll do my best. But you’re right. We must rescue ourselves as best we can.
D. H. LAWRENCE -
How she hated words, always coming between her and her life: they did the ravishing, if anything did: ready-made words and phrases, sucking all the live-sap out of living things.
D. H. LAWRENCE -
As we all know, too much of any divine thing is destruction
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Don’t you find it a beautiful clean thought, a world empty of people, just uninterrupted grass, and a hare sitting up?
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 -
Be a good animal,true to your instincts.
D. H. LAWRENCE -
And besides, look at elder flowers and bluebells-they are a sign that pure creation takes place – even the butterfly.
D. H. LAWRENCE -
Sleep is still most perfect, in spite of hygienists, when it is shared with a beloved.
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 -
She thought she loved, she thought she was full of love.
D. H. LAWRENCE