Quotes from D.H. Lawrence

Avluya ç?karken, genç horoz öttü. C?l?zlaÅŸm??, k?s?k bir ses ç?kar?yordu ama kuÅŸun bu sesinde ac?dan kuvvetli bir ÅŸey vard?. YaÅŸamak gerekliliÄŸiydi bu, hatta dirimin zaferini ç???rmakt?.

She felt weak and utterly forlorn. She wished some help would come from outside. But in the whole world there was no help. Society was terrible because it was insane. Civilized society is insane. Money and so-called love are its two great manias; money a long way first. The individual asserts himself in his disconnected insanity in these two modes: money and love.

Wisdom has reference only to the past. The future remains for ever an infinite field for mistakes. You can't know beforehand.

Far be it from me to suggest that all women should go running after gamekeepers for lovers.

The world doesn't fear a new idea. It can pigeon-hole any idea. But it can't pigeon-hole a real new experience. It can only dodge. The world is a great dodger, and the Americans the greatest. Because they dodge their own very selves.

Emily had at last found her place, and had escaped from the torture of strange, complex modern life.

And out of a pattern of lies art weaves the truth.

Bizler k?sa günü daha büyük günün içine al?p küçük yaÅŸamay? daha büyük yaÅŸaman?n döngüsü içine yerleÅŸtirmedikçe her ÅŸey, her ÅŸey bir y?k?md?r.

APPREHENSION AND all hours long, the town   Roars like a beast in a cave That is wounded there And like to drown;   While days rush, wave after wave On its lair.

Ans?z?n içine doÄŸdu, bir güneÅŸ gibi: Hepsinden, bana, aÅŸklar?n?n cesedi ile kulluk etmelerini istemiÅŸtim. Sonunda da onlara, ancak kendi aÅŸk?m?n cesedini verebildim. Bu bedenimdir -al?n,yiyin- cesedim.

Man is willing to accept woman as an equal, as a man in skirts, as an angel, a devil, a baby-face, a machine, an instrument, a bosom, a womb, a pair of legs, a servant, an encyclopaedia, an ideal or an obscenity; the one thing he won't accept her as, is a human being, a real human being of the feminine sex.

He looked at her with curious cold rage. He was used to her. She was, as it were, embedded in his will. How dared she now go back on him, and destroy the fabric of his daily existence? How dared she try to cause this derangement of his personality!

You say, Don't you bother about me, and then all the while you feel injured because nobody thinks of you.

The real joy of a book lies in reading it over and over again, and always finding it different, coming upon another meaning, another level of meaning.

Afterwards she said she had been silly, that the boy's hair would have had to be cut, sooner or later. In the end, she even brought herself to say to her husband it was just as well he had played barber when he did. But she knew, and Morel knew, that that act had caused something momentous to take place in her soul. She remembered the scene all her life, as one in which she had suffered the most intensely.

while the black coal rose jutting round them, and the props of wood stood like little pillars in the low, black, very dark temple.

What good was this place, this college? What good was Anglo-Saxon, when one only learned it in order to answer examination questions, in order that one should have a higher commercial value later on? She was sick with this long service at the inner commercial shrine. Yet what else was there? Was life all this, and this only? Everywhere, everything was debased to the same service. Everything went to produce vulgar things, to encumber material life.

The rabbit presses back her ears, Turns back her liquid, anguished eyes And crouches low: then with wild spring Spurts from the terror of his oncoming To be choked back, the wire ring Her frantic effort throttling: Piteous brown ball of quivering fears!

The proper function of a critic is to save the tale from the artist who created it.

Ah, God, what has man done to man? What have the leaders of men been doing to their fellow-men? They have reduced them to less than humanness; and now there can be no fellowship any more! It is just a nightmare.

Now I look with wonder, with tenderness, with joyful yearning towards that which is outside me, beyond me, not me. Behold, that which was once negative has now become the only positive. The other being is now the great positive reality, I myself am as nothing. Positivity has changed places.

Ethics and equity and the principles of justice do not change with the calendar.

But one truth does not displace another. Even apparently contradictory truths do not displace one another. Logic is far too coarse to make the subtle distinctions life demands.

The Italians are called Children of the Sun. They might better be called Children of the Shadow. Their souls are dark and nocturnal.