Top 699 Quotes & Sayings by D. H. Lawrence - Page 2
Explore popular quotes and sayings by an English writer D. H. Lawrence.
Last updated on November 25, 2024.
All vital truth contains the memory of all that for which it is not true.
It is so much more difficult to live with one's body than with one's soul. One's body is so much more exacting: what it won't have it won't have, and nothing can make bitter into sweet.
The one woman who never gives herself is your free woman, who is always giving herself.
Nothing that comes from the deep, passional soul is bad, or can be bad.
The human consciousness is really homogeneous. There is no complete forgetting, even in death.
God is only a great imaginative experience.
How beautiful maleness is, if it finds its right expression.
One never can know the whys and the wherefores of one's passional changes.
The only history is a mere question of one's struggle inside oneself. But that is the joy of it. One need neither discover Americas nor conquer nations, and yet one has as great a work as Columbus or Alexander, to do.
The great mass of humanity should never learn to read or write.
I can never decide whether my dreams are the result of my thoughts, or my thoughts the result of my dreams.
Psychoanalysis is out, under a therapeutic disguise, to do away entirely with the moral faculty in man.
Since obscenity is the truth of our passion today, it is the only stuff of art - or almost the only stuff.
We have to hate our immediate predecessors to get free of their authority.
They say geniuses mostly have great mothers. They mostly have sad fates.
I hold that the parentheses are by far the most important parts of a non-business letter.
When one jumps over the edge, one is bound to land somewhere.
One can no longer live with people: it is too hideous and nauseating. Owners and owned, they are like the two sides of a ghastly disease.
Men and women should stay apart, till their hearts grow gentle towards one another again.
The mind can assert anything and pretend it has proved it. My beliefs I test on my body, on my intuitional consciousness, and when I get a response there, then I accept.
Having achieved and accomplished love... man... has become himself, his tale is told.
Oh literature, oh the glorious Art, how it preys upon the marrow in our bones. It scoops the stuffing out of us, and chucks us aside. Alas!
It is quite true, as some poets said, that the God who created man must have had a sinister sense of humor, creating him a reasonable being, yet forcing him to take this ridiculous posture, and driving him with blind craving for this ridiculous performance.
Towns oftener swamp one than carry one out onto the big ocean of life.
The novel is the highest form of human expression so far attained. Why? Because it is so incapable of the absolute.
Don't be on the side of the angels, it's too lowering.
This is the very worst wickedness, that we refuse to acknowledge the passionate evil that is in us. This makes us secret and rotten.
I cannot cure myself of that most woeful of youth's follies - thinking that those who care about us will care for the things that mean much to us.
I can't do with mountains at close quarters - they are always in the way, and they are so stupid, never moving and never doing anything but obtrude themselves.
Literature is a toil and a snare, a curse that bites deep.
Ours is an excessively conscious age. We know so much, we feel so little.
I believe that a man is converted when first he hears the low, vast murmur of life, of human life, troubling his hitherto unconscious self.
I hate the actor and audience business. An author should be in among the crowd, kicking their shins or cheering them on to some mischief or merriment.
God how I hate new countries: They are older than the old, more sophisticated, much more conceited, only young in a certain puerile vanity more like senility than anything.
It's bad taste to be wise all the time, like being at a perpetual funeral.
The refined punishments of the spiritual mode are usually much more indecent and dangerous than a good smack.
Only in a novel are all things given full play.
The cruelest thing a man can do to a woman is to portray her as perfection.
One sheds one's sicknesses in books - repeats and presents again one's emotions, to be master of them.
Sentimentalism is the working off on yourself of feelings you haven't really got.
The great living experience for every man is his adventure into the woman. The man embraces in the woman all that is not himself, and from that one resultant, from that embrace, comes every new action.
The soul is a very perfect judge of her own motions, if your mind doesn't dictate to her.
The true artist doesn't substitute immorality for morality. On the contrary, he always substitutes a finer morality for a grosser one.
God doesn't know things. He is things.
Men always do leave off really thinking, when the last bit of wild animal dies in them.
I shall be glad when you have strangled the invincible respectability that dogs your steps.
My God, these folks don't know how to love - that's why they love so easily.
I am in love - and, my God, it is the greatest thing that can happen to a man. I tell you, find a woman you can fall in love with. Do it. Let yourself fall in love. If you have not done so already, you are wasting your life.
Beauty is an experience, nothing else. It is not a fixed pattern or an arrangement of features. It is something felt, a glow or a communicated sense of fineness.
If it doesn't absorb you, if it isn't any fun, don't do it.
Perhaps only people who are capable of real togetherness have that look of being alone in the universe. The others have a certain stickiness, they stick to the mass.
I never saw a wild thing sorry for itself
Money poisons you when you've got it, and starves you when you haven't.
We've got to live, no matter how many skies have fallen.
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.
If you don't like it, alter it, and if you can't alter it, put up with it.
For how can a man stand, unless he have something sure under his feet. Can a man tread the unstable water all his life, and call that standing? Better give in and drown at once.
Instead of chopping yourself down to fit the world, chop the world down to fit yourself.
I got the blues thinking of the future, so I left off and made some marmalade. It's amazing how it cheers one up to shred orange and scrub the floor.
Men fight for liberty and win it with hard knocks. Their children, brought up easy, let it slip away again, poor fools. And their grandchildren are once more slaves.
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