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. 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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This is the very worst wickedness, that we refuse to acknowledge the passionate evil that is in us.
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One sheds ones sickness in books- repeats and presents again ones emotions, to be master of them.
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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.
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I can never decide whether my dreams are the result of my thoughts or my thoughts the result of my dreams.
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I never saw a wild thing sorry for itself. A small bird will drop frozen dead from a bough without ever having felt sorry for itself.
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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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For my part, I prefer my heart to be broken. It is so lovely, dawn-kaleidoscopic within the crack.
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You can’t insure against the future, except by really believing in the best bit of you, and in the power beyond it.
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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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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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One could laugh at the world better if it didn’t mix tender kindliness with its brutality.
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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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He felt he had lost it for good, he knew what it was to have been in communication with her, and to be cast off again. In misery, his heart like a heavy stone, he went about unliving.
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Man is a mistake. He must go.
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For God’s sake, all of you, say spiteful things about me, then I shall know I mean something to you. Don’t say surgaries, or I’m done.
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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 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.
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It’s not art for art’s sake, it’s art for my sake.
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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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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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When I hear modern people complain of being lonely then I know what has happened. They have lost the cosmos.
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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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She thought she loved, she thought she was full of love.
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They stood together in a false intimacy, a nervous contact. And he was in love with her.
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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.
D. H. LAWRENCE -
Sleep is still most perfect, in spite of hygienists, when it is shared with a beloved.
D. H. LAWRENCE