I never saw a wild thing sorry for itself
D. H. LAWRENCEOne could laugh at the world better if it didn’t mix tender kindliness with its brutality.
More D. H. Lawrence Quotes
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The novel is the one bright book of life. Books are not life. They are only tremulations on the ether. But the novel as a tremulation can make the whole man alive tremble.
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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 world is a raving idiot, and no man can kill it: though I’ll do my best. But you’re right. We must rescue ourselves as best we can.
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But better die than live mechanically a life that is a repetition of repetitions.
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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.
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.
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For to desire is better than to possess, the finality of the end was dreaded as deeply as it was desired.
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We’ve got to live, no matter how many skies have fallen.
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Be still when you have nothing to say; when genuine passion moves you, say what you’ve got to say, and say it hot.
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The human being is a most curious creature. He thinks he has got one soul, and he has got dozens.
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If a woman hasn’t got a tiny streak of harlot in her, she’s a dry stick as a rule.
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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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Those that go searching for love only make manifest their own lovelessness, and the loveless never find love, only the loving find love, and they never have to seek for it.
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A man could no longer be private and withdrawn. The world allows no hermits.
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Sleep is still most perfect, in spite of hygienists, when it is shared with a beloved.
D. H. LAWRENCE