Life is ours to be spent, not to be saved.
D. H. LAWRENCETheir whole life depends on spending money, and now they’ve got none to spend. That’s our civilization and our education: bring up the masses to depend entirely on spending money, and then the money gives out.
More D. H. Lawrence Quotes
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Money poisons you when you’ve got it, and starves you when you haven’t.
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Be sure your sins will find you out, especially if you’re married and her name’s Bertha.
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There is no pornography without a secrecy.
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It’s not art for art’s sake, it’s art for my sake.
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As we all know, too much of any divine thing is destruction
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Sleep is still most perfect, in spite of hygienists, when it is shared with a beloved.
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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?
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Their whole life depends on spending money, and now they’ve got none to spend. That’s our civilization and our education: bring up the masses to depend entirely on spending money, and then the money gives out.
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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?
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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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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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I don’t want the corpses of flowers about me.
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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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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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But better die than live mechanically a life that is a repetition of repetitions.
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We’ve got to live, no matter how many skies have fallen.
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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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How she loved to listen when he thought only the horse could hear.
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You love me so much, you want to put me in your pocket. And there I will die smothered.
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A little morphine in all the air. It would be wonderfully refreshing for everyone.
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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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The novel is the one bright book of life. Books are not life. They are only tremulations on the ether. But the novel as a tremulation can make the whole man alive tremble.
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He worked very hard, till nothing lived in him but his eyes.
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Obscenity only comes in when the mind despises and fears the body, and the body hates and resists the mind.
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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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If only there weren’t so many other people in the world,’ he said lugubriously.
D. H. LAWRENCE