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. LAWRENCEHow 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.
More D. H. Lawrence Quotes
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Life is ours to be spent, not to be saved.
D. H. LAWRENCE -
The essential American soul is hard, isolate, stoic, and a killer. It has never yet melted.
D. H. LAWRENCE -
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. LAWRENCE -
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 -
Recklessness is almost a man’s revenge on his woman.
D. H. LAWRENCE -
The human being is a most curious creature. He thinks he has got one soul, and he has got dozens.
D. H. LAWRENCE -
The beautiful pure freedom of a woman was infinitely more wonderful than any sexual love.
D. H. LAWRENCE -
It’s not art for art’s sake, it’s art for my sake.
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.
D. H. LAWRENCE -
I like to write when I feel spiteful. It is like having a good sneeze.
D. H. LAWRENCE -
Give up bearing children and bear hope and love and devotion to those already born.
D. H. LAWRENCE -
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.
D. H. LAWRENCE -
What the eye doesn’t see and the mind doesn’t know, doesn’t exist.
D. H. LAWRENCE -
If I were the moon, I know where I would fall down.
D. H. LAWRENCE -
There is nothing to save, now all is lost, but a tiny core of stillness in the heart like the eye of a violet.
D. H. LAWRENCE