Quotes from D.H. Lawrence

When one is grown up, money is lying about at one's service. It is only when one is young that it is rare. Take no thought for money - that always lies to hand.(Women in Love)

The days go by, through the brief silence of winter, when the sunshine is so still and pure, like iced wine, and the dead leaves gleam brown, and water sounds hoarse in the ravines.

I never saw a wild thing sorry for itself

It is a fine thing to establish one's own religion in one's heart, not to be dependent on tradition and second-hand ideals. Life will seem to you, later, not a lesser, but a greater thing.

Sometimes life takes hold of one, carries the body along, accomplishes one's history, and yet is not real, but leaves oneself as it were slurred over.

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.

Oh build your ship of death, oh build it in time and build it lovingly, and put it between the hands of your soul.

For my part, I prefer my heart to be broken. It is so lovely, dawn-kaleidoscopic within the crack.

A little morphine in all the air. It would be wonderfully refreshing for everyone.

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.

Obscenity only comes in when the mind despises and fears the body, and the body hates and resists the mind.

It's not art for art's sake, it's art for my sake.

The human soul needs beauty more than bread.

That's the place to get to—nowhere. One wants to wander away from the world's somewheres, into our own nowhere.

The essential American soul is hard, isolate, stoic, and a killer. It has never yet melted.

Be a good animal,true to your instincts.

Every true artist is the salvation of every other. Only artists produce for each other a world that is fit to live in.

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.

Never was an age more sentimental, more devoid of real feeling, more exaggerated in false feeling, than our own.

There is nothing to save, now all is lost, but a tiny core of stillness in the heart like the eye of a violet.

And that is how we are. By strength of will we cut off our inner intuitive knowledge from admitted consciousness. This causes a state of dread, or apprehension, which makes the blow ten times worse when it does fall.

I can never decide whether my dreams are the result of my thoughts or my thoughts the result of my dreams.

Never trust the teller, trust the tale. The proper function of a critic is to save the tale from the artist who created it.

If I were the moon, I know where I would fall down.