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. 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 was always waiting, it seemed to be her forte.
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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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Man is a mistake. He must go.
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You’re always begging things to love you, he said, as if you were a beggar for love. Even the flowers, you have to fawn on them–
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But better die than live mechanically a life that is a repetition of repetitions.
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How she loved to listen when he thought only the horse could hear.
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What the eye doesn’t see and the mind doesn’t know, doesn’t exist.
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I don’t want the corpses of flowers about me.
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Vitally, the human race is dying. It is like a great uprooted tree, with its roots in the air. We must plant ourselves again in the universe.
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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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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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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.
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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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That’s how women are with me said Paul. They want me like mad but they don’t want to belong to me.
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One must learn to love, and go through a good deal of suffering to get to it, and the journey is always towards the other soul.
D. H. LAWRENCE