Quotes from D.H. Lawrence

You know, he said to his mother, I don't want to belong to the well-to-do middle class. I like my common people best. I belong to the common people. - Sons and Lovers

You, and rule!" she said. "You don't rule, don't flatter yourself. You have only got more than your share of the money, and make people work for you for two pounds a week, or threaten them with starvation. Rule! What do you give forth of rule? Why, you're dried up! You only bully with your money

From the first instant, Kate respected her for her isolation and her dauntless. The world is made up of a mass of people and a few individuals. Mrs. Norris was one of the few individuals. True, she played her social game all the time. But she was an odd number; and all alone, she could give the even numbers a bad time.

Certainly she could take him without giving herself into his power. Rather she could use this sex thing to have power over him.

Put the lights out, we shall see better.

A new degree of anger came over him. What did it all matter? What did it matter if the mother talked Polish and cried in labour, if this child were stiff with resistance, and crying?Why take it to heart?Let the mother cry in labour, let the child cry in resistance, since they would do so. Why should he fight against it, why resist? Let it be, if it were so. Let them be as they were, if they insisted.

Well!' he said at last. `I agree to anything. 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.

The most normal people have the worst subterranean selves.

But that is how men are! Ungrateful and never satisfied. When you don't have them they hate you because you won't; and when you do have them they hate you again, for some other reason.

You're spending your life without renewing it.

Learning was the only distinction to which she thought to aspire.

Piecemeal the body dies, and the timid soul has her footing washed away, as the dark flood rises.

But you are such a socialist! you're always on the side of the working classes.' `I may be on their side in a political crisis, but being on their side makes me know how impossible it is to mix one's life with theirs. Not out of snobbery, but just because the whole rhythm is different.

Her hand lay on the gate-post as she balanced. He put his own over it. His heart beat thickly. But did you - were you ever - did you give him a chance? Chance? - how? To come near you. Iw married him - and I was willing- They both strove to keep their voices steady. I believe he loves you, he said. It looks like it, she replied. He wanted to take his hand away, and could not. She saved him by removing her own.

Because I feel you did something to him - sort of broke him - broke his manliness. What did you do? If I broke his manliness, it must have been a very easy thing to break.

He got down to the New Inn... Your father's not come yet, said the landlady, in the peculiar half scornful, half patronising voice of a woman who talks chiefly to grown men. Sit you down.

But so many people... have only got their minds tacked on to their physical corpses.

She suddenly became aware of his keen blue eyes upon her, taking her all in. Instantly her broken boots and her frayed old frock hurt her. She resented his seeing everything. Even he knew that her stocking was not pulled up. She went into the scullery, blushing deeply. And afterwards her hands trembled slightly at her work, she nearly dropped all she handled. When her inside dream was shaken, her body quivered with trepidation. She resented that he saw so much.

she would be free of mundane care, she was a pure will towards right. She had sold herself, but she had a new freedom. She had got rid of her body. She had sold a lower thing, her body, for a higher thing, her freedom from material things.

The salt, bitter passion of the sea, its indifference to the earth, its swinging, definite motion, its strength, its attack, and its salt burning, seemed to provoke her to a pitch of madness, tantalizing her with vast suggestions of fulfilment.

How beautiful, how grand and perfect death was, how good to look forward to. There one would wash off all the lies and ignominy and dirt that had been put upon one here, a perfect bath of cleanness and glad refreshment, and go unknown, unquestioned, unabased. After all, one was rich, if only in the promise of perfect death. It was a gladness above all, that this remained to look forward to, the pure inhuman otherness of death.

Connie woke up to the existence of legs. They became more important to her than faces, which are no longer very real.

we assert that in all mammals the center of primal, constructive consciousness and activity lies in the middle front of the abdomen, beneath the navel, in the great nerve center called the solar plexus. How do we know? We feel it, as we feel hunger or love or hate.

She was grieved, and bitterly sorry for the man who was hurt so much. But still, in her heart of hearts, where the love should have burned, there was a blank. Now, when all her woman's pity was roused to its full extent, when she would have slaved herself to death to nurse him and to save him, when she would have taken the pain herself, if she could, somewhere far away inside her she felt indifferent to him and to his suffering. It hurt her most of all, this failure to love him.