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
cake rotten
You can have your cake and eat it. But my God, it will go rotten inside you.
passion hymns white
And to my lips’ Bright crimson rim The passion slips, And down my slim White body drips The shining hymn...
smell doors lilies
It grew late. Through the open door, stealthily, came the scent of madonna lilies, almost as if it were prowling abroad.
pyramids egypt lasts
The pyramids of Egypt will not last a moment compared to the daisy.
education ignorance knowledge
We must know, if only in order to learn not to know. The supreme lesson of human consciousness is to learn how not to know. That is, how not to interfere.
america people society
America does to me what I knew it would do: it just bumps me. The people charge at you like trucks coming down on you -- no awareness. But one tries to dodge aside in time. Bump! bump! go the trucks. And that is human contact.
women giving one-woman
The one woman who never gives herself is your free woman, who is always giving herself.
truth lying feelings
Truth does not lie beyond humanity, but is one of the products of the human mind and feeling.
self may language
The reaction to any word may be, in an individual, either a mob-reaction or an individual reaction. It is up to the individual to ask himself: Is my reaction individual, or am I merely reacting from my mob-self? When it comes to the so-called obscene words, I should say that hardly one person in a million escapes mob-reaction.
europe history interesting
The East is marvellously interesting for tracing our steps back. But for going forward, it is nothing. All it can hope for is to be fertilised by Europe, so that it can start on a new phase.
jobs real mind
The words themselves are clean, so are the things to which they apply. But the mind drags in a filthy association, calls up some repulsive emotion. Well, then, cleanse the mind, that is the real job. It is the mind which is the Augean stables, not language.
love-you being-in-love men
Tragedy looks to me like man in love with his own defeat. Which is only a sloppy way of being in love with yourself.
hate tragedy literature
I hate England and its hopelessness. I hate [Arnold] Bennett's resignation. Tragedy ought really to be a great big kick at misery.
tree speak breathe
Imitate the magnificent trees that speak no word of their rapture, but only breathe largely the luminous breeze.