Quotes from D H Lawrence

Human love, human trust, are always perilous, because they break down. The greater the love, the greater the trust, and the greater the peril, the greater the disaster. Because to place absolute trust on another human being is in itself a disaster, both ways, since each human being is a ship that must sail its own course, even if it go in company with another ship.... And yet, love is the greatest thing between human beings.

She had not the strength to come to life now, in England, so foreign, skies so hostile. She knew she would die like an early, colourless, scentless flower that the end of the winter puts forth mercilessly. And she wanted to harbour her modicum of twinkling life.

The officer sat with his long, fine hands lying on the table, perfectly still, and all his blood seemed to be corroding. - The Prussian Officer

So he left her, and she was alone. Very few people cared for her, and she for very few people. She remained alone with herself, waiting.

I have realized that my will, no matter how intelligent I am, is only another nuisance on the face of the earth, once I start exerting it. And other people's wills are even worse.

Está usted malgastando su vida sin renovarla. Tiene que distraerse, divertirse bien y sanamente. Está usted gastando su vitalidad sin adquirir vitalidad ninguna. Esto no puede seguir así, ¿me entiende? ¡Depresión! ¡Evite la depresión!

Se sentía débil e infinitamente abandonada. Deseaba que algo viniera de fuera en su ayuda. Ayuda que de modo ninguno se presentaba. La sociedad era horrible porque estaba loca. La sociedad civilizada es un despropósito. El dinero y el llamado amor son sus dos grandes manías; con el dinero muy a la cabeza. En su inconexa locura el individuo se identifica a sí mismo con esas dos formas: dinero y amor.

The final mystery is one mystery. But the manifestations are many.

Man is a column of blood, with a voice in it, he said. And when the voice is still, and he is only a column of blood, he is better.

She did not at the bottom believe she ever would have him. She did not believe in herself primarily: doubted whether she could ever be what he would demand of her. Certainly she never saw herself living happily through a lifetime with him. She saw tragedy, sorrow, and sacrifice ahead.

She thought his sarcasms were unnecessary.

He would come back. She held the keys to his soul. But meanwhile, how he would torture her with his battle against her. She shrank from it.

I'm tired of self-important mentalities

American soul is stoic isolate and a killer

it was all nothing, a wonderful display of nothingness. At the same time a display. A display! a display! a display!

Horrors might burst out of them. But something must burst out, sometimes, if men are not machines.

To be alive, to be man alive, to be whole man alive: that is the point. And at its best, the novel, and the novel supremely, can help you. It can help you not to be dead man in life.

Now, must she admit that he individual was an illusion and a falsification? There was no such animal. Except in the mechanical world. In the world of machines, the individual machine is effectual. The individual, like the perfect being, does not and cannot exist, in the vivid world. We are all fragments. And at the best, halves. The only whole thing is the Morning Star. Which can only rise between two: or between many.

You don't want to love--your eternal and abnormal craving is to be loved. You aren't positive, you're negative. You absorb, absorb, as if you must fill yourself up with love, because you've got a shortage somewhere.

I shall always be a priest of love.

Life and love are life and love, a bunch of violets is a bunch of violets, and to drag in the idea of a point is to ruin everything. Live and let live, love and let love, flower and fade, and follow the natural curve, which flows on, pointless.

The world is wonderful and beautiful and good beyond one's wildest imagination. Never, never, never could one conceive what love is, beforehand, never. Life can be great --quite god-like. It can be so. God be thanked I have proved it.

Love is the flower of life, and blossoms unexpectedly and without law, and must be plucked where it is found, and enjoyed for the brief hour of its duration.

My God, these folks don't know how to love -- that's why they love so easily.