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.
D. H. LAWRENCEThings 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.
More D. H. Lawrence Quotes
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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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The human soul needs beauty more than bread.
D. H. LAWRENCE -
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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When I hear modern people complain of being lonely then I know what has happened. They have lost the cosmos.
D. H. LAWRENCE -
Life is ours to be spent, not to be saved.
D. H. LAWRENCE -
That’s the place to get to – nowhere. One wants to wander away from the world’s somewheres, into our own nowhere.
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 -
You can’t insure against the future, except by really believing in the best bit of you, and in the power beyond it.
D. H. LAWRENCE -
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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Used to all kinds of society, she watched people as one reads the pages of a novel, with a certain disinterested amusement.
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As we all know, too much of any divine thing is destruction
D. H. LAWRENCE -
Sometimes life takes hold of one, carries the body along, accomplishes one’s history, and yet is not real, but leaves oneself as it were slurred over.
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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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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.
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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