D. H. Lawrence Quotes
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Sleep is still most perfect, in spite of hygienists, when it is shared with a beloved. The warmth, the security and peace of soul, the utter comfort from the touch of the other, knits the sleep, so that it takes the body and soul completely in its healing.
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He who gets nearer the sun is leader, the aristocrat of aristocrats, or he who, like Dostoevsky, gets nearest the moon of our non-being.
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Europe is, perhaps, the least worn-out of the continents, because it is the most lived in. A place that is lived in lives.
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But then peace, peace! I am so mistrustful of it: so much afraid that it means a sort of weakness and giving in.
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I'd wipe the machines off the face of the earth again, and end the industrial epoch absolutely, like a black mistake.
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Life is beautiful, as long as it consumes you. When it is rushing through you, destroying you, life is gorgeous, glorious. It's when you burn a slow fire and save fuel, that life's not worth having.
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I know the greatness of Christianity; it is a past greatness.. I live in 1924, and the Christian venture is done.
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All this Americanising and mechanising has been for the purpose of overthrowing the past. And now look at America, tangled in her own barbed wire, and mastered by her own machines.
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I should like [people] to like the purely individual thing in themselves, which makes them act in singleness. and They only like to do the collective thing.
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If we lose our sanity ... We can but howl the lugubrious howl of idiots, the howl of the utterly lost howling their nowhereness.
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Homer was wrong in saying, "Would that strife might pass away from among gods and men!" He did not see that he was praying for the destruction of the universe.
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If it be not true to me, What care I how true it be.. Though it be not true to thee, It's gay and gospel truth to me.
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A museum is not a first-hand contact: it is an illustrated lecture. And what one wants is the actual vital touch.
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And woman is the same as horses: two wills act in opposition inside her. With one will she wants to subject herself utterly. With the other she wants to bolt, and pitch her rider to perdition.
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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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And to my lips' Bright crimson rim The passion slips, And down my slim White body drips The shining hymn.
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You're always begging things to love you," he said, "as if you were a beggar for love. Even the flowers, you have to fawn on them--
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I have lived among enough painters and around studios to have had all the theories - and how contradictory they are - rammed down my throat. A man has to have a gizzard like an ostrich to digest all the brass-tacks and wire nails of modern art theories.
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But I like the feel of men on things, while they're alive. There's a feel of men about trucks, because they've been handled with men's hands, all of them.
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And what's romance? Usually, a nice little tale where you have everything As You Like It, where rain never wets your jacket and gnats never bite your nose and it's always daisy-time.
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Patience! Patience! The world is a vast and ghastly intricacy of mechanism, and one has to be very wary, not to get mangled by it.
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I like Australia less and less. The hateful newness, the democratic conceit, every man a little pope of perfection.
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Satire exists for the purpose of killing the social being [for the sake of] the true individual, the real human being.
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But, especially in love, only counterfeit emotions exist nowadays. We have all been taught to mistrust everybody emotionally, from parents downwards, or upwards. Don’t trust anybody with your real emotions: if you’ve got any: that is the slogan of today. Trust them with your money, even, but never with your feelings. They are bound to trample on them.