Quotes from D.H. Lawrence

So they stood in the utter, dark kiss, that triumphed over them both, subjected them, knitted them into one fecund nucleus of the fluid darkness. It was bliss, it was the nucleolating of the fecund darkness. Once the vessel had vibrated till it was shattered, the light of consciousness gone, then the darkness reigned, and the unutterable satisfaction.

Aaron Sisson was the last man on the little black railway-line

There are, as we know, powerful and illustrious atheists. At bottom, led back to the truth by their very force, they are not absolutely sure that they are atheists; it is with them only a question of definition, and in any case, if they do not believe in God, being great minds, they prove God. We salute them as philosophers, while inexorably denouncing their philosophy. Let us go on.

There is visible labor and invisible labor. To contemplate is to labor, to think is to act. Folded arms toil, clasped hands work. A gaze fixed on heaven is a work. Thales remained motionless for four years. He founded philosophy.

where the moon was wrestling heroically to win free of the pack of clouds which hung on her like wolves on a white deer.

Never mind, never mind, we won't get worked up. We really trust in the little flame, in the unnamed god that shields it from being blown out. There's so much of you here with me, really, that it's a pity you aren't all here.

BE STILL WHEN YOU HAVE NOTHING TO SAY; WHEN GENUINE PASSION MOVES YOU, SAY WHAT YOU'VE GOT TO SAY, AND SAY IT HOT.

A Prelude, 1907 Lessford's Rabbits, 1908

In the end, the soul is alone brooding on the face of the uncreated flux, as a bird on a dark sea...

Tentei incitá-los à vida, e eles incitaram-me à morte. É sempre o que acontece quando há compulsão. Recuar mata o progresso. Chegou o meu momento de estar só.

She could not be content with the little he might be, she would have him the much that he ought to be. So, in seeking to make him nobler than he could be, she destroyed him.

Whether it turned into wine or whether it didn't, he said, it doesn't bother me. I take it for what it is. And what is it? she asked, quickly, hopefully. It's the Bible, he said. That answer enraged her, and she despised him.

Every half-truth at length produces the contradiction of itself in the opposite half-truth.

And voices in me said, if you were a man You would take a stick and break him now, and finish him off. But must I confess how I liked him, How glad I was he had come like a guest in quiet, to drink at my water-trough And depart peaceful, pacified, and thankless, Into the burning bowels of this earth? Was it cowardice, that I dared not kill him? Was it perversity, that I longed to talk to him? Was it humility, to feel so honoured? I felt so honoured.

But how could she know what she would feel next year? How could one ever know? How could one say Yes? for years and years? The little yes, gone on a breath! Why should one be pinned down by that butterfly word? Of course it had to flutter away and be gone, to be followed by other yes's and no's! Like the straying of butterflies.

I got the blues thinking of the future, so I left off and made some marmalade.  It's amazing how it cheers one up to shred oranges and scrub the floor.

Truth does not lie beyond humanity, but is one of the products of the human mind and feeling. There is really nothing to fear. The motive of fear in religion is base, and must be left to the ancient worshippers of power, worship of Moloch. We do not worship power, in our enlightened souls. Power is degenerated to money and Napoleonic stupidity.

Mrs Morel always said the after-life would hold nothing in store for her husband: he rose from the lower world into purgatory, when he came home from pit, and passed on to heaven in the Palmerston Arms.

To contemplate the extermination of the human species and the long pause that follows before some other species crops up, it calms you more than anything else.

The leaves fly over the window and whisper a word as they pass To the face that leans from the darkness, intent, with two eyes of darkness That watch forever earnestly from behind the window glass.

Clifford'u öpmeden ayr?l?yordu. Clifford ona keskin soÄŸuk gözlerle bakt?. Demek öyle! bütün bir akÅŸam?n? ona kitap okumakla geçirmiÅŸti. Gene de öpmeden gidiyordu. Ne kat? yürekli kad?nda! Bir öpücük kal?plaÅŸm?? bir davran??t? belki ama böyle kal?plaÅŸm?? davran??lara dayand? yaÅŸam.

And this is all the God the grandsons of the Pilgrim Fathers had left. Aloft on a pillar of dollars.

There is always a master. And men either live in glad obedience to the master they believe in, or they live in a frictional opposition to the master they wish to undermine. In America this frictional opposition has been the vital factor.

But also, no more of this new "humanity" which followed the Renaissance. None of this new liberty which was to be so pretty in Europe. Something grimmer, by no means free-and-easy.