Things men have made with wakened hands, and put soft life into are awake through years with transferred touch, and go on glowing for long years.
D. H. LAWRENCEThere’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.
More D. H. Lawrence Quotes
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She would have thought a woman would have died of shame. Instead of which, the shame died.
D. H. LAWRENCE -
Money poisons you when you’ve got it, and starves you when you haven’t.
D. H. LAWRENCE -
Life is ours to be spent, not to be saved.
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 -
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 -
Obscenity only comes in when the mind despises and fears the body, and the body hates and resists the mind.
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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 -
Man is a mistake. He must go.
D. H. LAWRENCE -
They stood together in a false intimacy, a nervous contact. And he was in love with her.
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 -
For to desire is better than to possess, the finality of the end was dreaded as deeply as it was desired.
D. H. LAWRENCE -
The essential American soul is hard, isolate, stoic, and a killer. It has never yet melted.
D. H. LAWRENCE -
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.
D. H. LAWRENCE -
There is no pornography without a secrecy.
D. H. LAWRENCE -
Never was an age more sentimental, more devoid of real feeling, more exaggerated in false feeling, than our own.
D. H. LAWRENCE