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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

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.
D. H. LAWRENCE

Laughter Ourselves Philosophy Touch
But better die than live mechanically a life that is a repetition of repetitions.
D. H. LAWRENCE

Better Death Life Live
How she loved to listen when he thought only the horse could hear.
D. H. LAWRENCE

Animal Herself Himself Listen Love
Mankind has got to get back to the rhythm of the cosmos.
D. H. LAWRENCE

Humanity Kind Philosophy
He worked very hard, till nothing lived in him but his eyes.
D. H. LAWRENCE

Eyes Himself Live
Don’t you find it a beautiful clean thought, a world empty of people, just uninterrupted grass, and a hare sitting up?
D. H. LAWRENCE

Beautiful Empty People World Yourself
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

Feeling Fight Laughter Life Love Satisfaction
You’re spending your life without renewing it. You’ve got to be amused, properly healthily amused. You’re spending your vitality without making any. Can’t go on you know. Depression! Avoid depression!
D. H. LAWRENCE

Depression Health Life Yourself
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.
D. H. LAWRENCE

Lying Poet Thinking
This is the very worst wickedness, that we refuse to acknowledge the passionate evil that is in us.
D. H. LAWRENCE

Evil Passionate Worst
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. LAWRENCE

Hands Life Man Touch Transformation Weakness
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

Art Breathe Life Oneself
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.
D. H. LAWRENCE

Death Greatness Human Ourselves Race Tree
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.
D. H. LAWRENCE

Feeling Money Myself Peace Poison
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?
D. H. LAWRENCE

Imagination Love Philosophy Relationship Yourself
A little morphine in all the air. It would be wonderfully refreshing for everyone.
D. H. LAWRENCE

People Wonderful

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.

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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.

Related Topics

Popular Authors

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