I never saw a wild thing sorry for itself
D. H. LAWRENCEOne sheds ones sickness in books- repeats and presents again ones emotions, to be master of them.
More D. H. Lawrence Quotes
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The essential American soul is hard, isolate, stoic, and a killer. It has never yet melted.
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But humanity never gets beyond the caterpillar stage -it rots in the chrysalis, it never will have wings.It is anti-creation, like monkeys and baboons.
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There is no pornography without a secrecy.
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A little morphine in all the air. It would be wonderfully refreshing for everyone.
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The beautiful pure freedom of a woman was infinitely more wonderful than any sexual love.
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Instead of chopping yourself down to fit the world, chop the world down to fit yourself.
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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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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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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.
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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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The only rule is, do what you really, impulsively, wish to do. But always act on your own responsibility, sincerely. And have the courage of your own strong emotion.
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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.
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They 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.
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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.
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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.
D. H. LAWRENCE







