Quotes from D. H. Lawrence

She lowered her eyes, and suddenly saw the fox. He was looking up at her. Her chin was pressed down, and his eyes were looking up. They met her eyes. And he knew her. She was spellbound — she knew he knew her. So he looked into her eyes, and her soul failed her. He knew her, he was not daunted.

y entró en esa buena sociedad de gente del gobierno que no está a la cabeza, pero que son, o pudieran ser, el verdadero poder oculto de la nación: gente que sabe de qué habla, o habla como si lo supiera.

Incluso la guerra era absurda, aunque con la ventaja de que mataba a no poca gente.

The mighty question arises upon us, what is one's own real self? It certainly is not what we think we are and ought to be.

That little, twitching, momentary clasp of acknowledgment that she gave him in her satisfaction, roused his pride unconquerable. They loved each other, and all was whole. She loved him, he had taken her, she was given to him. It was right. He was given to her, and they were one, complete.

On and on we go, for the mental consciousness labours under the illusion that there is somewhere to go to, a goal to consciousness. Whereas of course there is no goal. Consciousness is an end in itself. We torture ourselves getting somewhere, and when we get there it is nowhere, for there is nowhere to get to.

But the passion of gratitude with which he received her into his soul, the extreme, unthinkable gladness of knowing himself living and fit to unite with her, he, who was so nearly dead, who was so near to being gone with the rest of his race down the slope of mechanical death, could never be understood by her.

Yes, this was love, this ridiculous bouncing of the buttocks, and the wilting of the poor, insignificant, moist little penis.

Connie really sometimes felt she would die at this time. She felt she was being crushed to death by weird lies and by the amazing cruelty of idiocy.

Não podia. Hoje em dia os confins do mundo ficam a menos de cinco minutos de Charing Cross. Com o telégrafo sem fios, os confins da Terra não existem. Os reis de Daomé e os lamas do Tibete escutam Londres e Nova Iorque.

Isn't love the most horrible thing! I think it's just horrible. it just does one in, and turns one into a sort of howling animal.

Tão sensíveis que nós somos àquilo que se espera de nós.

The fear, the great cold fear of the base-born, everything human and swarming. Like a great bog humanity swamped her, and she sank in, weak at the knees, filled with repulsion and fear of every person she met.

Having suffered so much, the capacity for suffering had to some extent left him.

She did not look her best: so thin, so large-nosed, with that pink-and-white checked duster tied round her head. She felt her disadvantage. But she had had a good deal of suffering and sorrow, she did not mind any more.

And as he loped slowly past her, on his flexible hips, it seemed to her still that he was stronger than she was. Of all the men she had ever seen, this one was the only one who was stronger than she was, in her own kind of strength, her own kind of understanding.

The talk went on like a rattle of small artillery, always slightly sententious, with a sententiousness that was only emphasised by the continual crackling of a witticism, the continual spatter of verbal jest, designed to give a tone of flippancy to a stream of conversation that was all critical and general, a canal of conversation rather than a stream.

And they tramped off to the forests with sturdy youths bearing guitars, twang-twang!

March felt the same sly, taunting, knowing spark leap out of his eyes, as he turned his head aside, and fall into her soul

She felt unpeeled and rather exposed. She felt almost improper.

So, after three days of incessant brandy-drinking, he had burned out the youth from his blood, he had achieved this kindled state of oneness with all the world, which is the end of youth's most passionate desire.

Oh - one would feel things instead of merely looking at them. I should feel the air move against me, and feel the things I touched, instead of having only to look at them. I'm sure life is all wrong because it has become too visual - we can neither hear or feel nor understand, we can only see. I'm sure that is entirely wrong.

Like a cat asleep on a chair at peace, in peace and at one with the master of the house, with the mistress, at home, at home in the house of the living

Gudrun entered the taxi, with the deliberate cold movement of a woman who is well-dressed and contemptuous in her soul.