I never saw a wild thing sorry for itself
D. H. LAWRENCEThat’s the place to get to – nowhere. One wants to wander away from the world’s somewheres, into our own nowhere.
More D. H. Lawrence Quotes
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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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He knew that conscience was chiefly fear of society or fear of oneself.
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The essential American soul is hard, isolate, stoic, and a killer. It has never yet melted.
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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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As we all know, too much of any divine thing is destruction
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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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Sleep is still most perfect, in spite of hygienists, when it is shared with a beloved.
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Their words were only accidents in the mutual silence.
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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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I want to live my life so that my nights are not full of regrets.
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Give up bearing children and bear hope and love and devotion to those already born.
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It’s not art for art’s sake, it’s art for my sake.
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And besides, look at elder flowers and bluebells-they are a sign that pure creation takes place – even the butterfly.
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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. LAWRENCE -
Instead of chopping yourself down to fit the world, chop the world down to fit yourself.
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He worked very hard, till nothing lived in him but his eyes.
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Never trust the teller, trust the tale. The proper function of a critic is to save the tale from the artist who created it.
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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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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.
D. H. LAWRENCE -
One could laugh at the world better if it didn’t mix tender kindliness with its brutality.
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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.
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The beautiful pure freedom of a woman was infinitely more wonderful than any sexual love.
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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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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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There is nothing to save, now all is lost, but a tiny core of stillness in the heart like the eye of a violet.
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They stood together in a false intimacy, a nervous contact. And he was in love with her.
D. H. LAWRENCE