D. H. Lawrence
D. H. Lawrence
David Herbert Richards Lawrencewas an English novelist, poet, playwright, essayist, literary critic and painter who published as D. H. Lawrence. His collected works, among other things, represent an extended reflection upon the dehumanising effects of modernity and industrialisation. In them, some of the issues Lawrence explores are emotional health, vitality, spontaneity and instinct...
NationalityEnglish
ProfessionWriter
Date of Birth11 September 1885
world intricacy ghastly
Patience! Patience! The world is a vast and ghastly intricacy of mechanism, and one has to be very wary, not to get mangled by it.
women function
A woman needn't be dragged down by her functions.
children fall mean
It is marriage, perhaps, which had given man the best of his freedom, given him his little kingdom of his own within the big kingdom of the state.... It is a true freedom because it is a true fulfilment, for man, woman and children. Do we then want to break marriage? If we do break it, it means we all fall to a far greater extent under the direct sway of the State.
sleep three drink
There are three cures for ennui: sleep, drink and travel.
sex closest
Sex is really only touch, the closest of all touch. And it's touch we're afraid of.
insanity idiot lost
If we lose our sanity ... We can but howl the lugubrious howl of idiots, the howl of the utterly lost howling their nowhereness.
parent elements combination
The nature of the infant is not just a new permutation-and-combination of elements contained in the natures of the parents. There is in the nature of the infant that which is utterly unknown in the natures of the parents.
falling-in-love men falling-in-love-with-you
I am in love and, my God, it is the greatest thing that can happen to a man.
light space darkness
I wonder which was more frightened among old tribes -- those bursting out of their darkness of woods upon all the space of light, or those from the open tiptoeing into the forests.
attitude nice hate
How I hate the attitude of ordinary people to life. How I loathe ordinariness! How from my soul I abhor nice simple people, with their eternal price list. It makes my blood boil.
hurt body littles
What a frail, easily hurt, rather pathetic thing a human body is, naked; somehow a little unfinished, incomplete!
absolutes
Beware of absolutes. There are many gods.
men rubbish months
Don't talk to me any more about poetry for months -- unless it is other men's work. I really love verse, even rubbish. But I'm fearfully busy at a novel, and brush all the gossamer of verse off my face.
passion littles magnificent
When passion is dead, or absent, then the magnificent throb of beauty is incomprehensible and even a little despicable.