Those that go searching for love only make manifest their own lovelessness, and the loveless never find love, only the loving find love, and they never have to seek for it.— D. H. Lawrence
The most unique D. H. Lawrence quotes that may be undiscovered and unusual
Perhaps only people who are capable of real togetherness have that look of being alone in the universe. The others have a certain stickiness, they stick to the mass.
The Moon! Artemis! the great goddess of the splendid past of men! Are you going to tell me she is a dead lump?
Beauty is an experience, nothing else.
It is not a fixed pattern or an arrangement of features. It is something felt, a glow or a communicated sense of fineness.
Ethics and equity and the principles of justice do not change with the calendar.
No creature is fully itself till it is, like the dandelion, opened in the bloom of pure relationship to the sun, the entire living cosmos.
The deadly Hydra now is the hydra of Equality.
Liberty, Equality and Fraternity is the three-fanged serpent.
One sheds one's sicknesses in books -- repeats and presents again one's emotions, to be master of them.
Behold then Septimus Dodge returning to Dodge-town victorious.
Not crowned with laurel, it is true, but wreathed in lists of things he has seen and sucked dry. Seen and sucked dry, you know: Venus de Milo, the Rhine or the Coliseum: swallowed like so many clams, and left the shells.
Oh literature, oh the glorious Art, how it preys upon the marrow in our bones.
It scoops the stuffing out of us, and chucks us aside. Alas!
Curse the blasted, jelly-boned swines, the slimy, the belly-wriggling invertebrates, the miserable soddingrotters, the flaming sods, the sniveling, dribbling, dithering, palsied, pulse-less lot that make up England today. They've got white of egg in their veins, and their spunk is that watery it's a marvel they can breed.
An artist is only an ordinary man with a greater potentiality.
Love is the flower of life, and blossoms unexpectedly and without law, and must be plucked where it is found, and enjoyed for the brief hour of its duration.
Life is ours to be spent, not to be saved.
Sunday night meant, in the dark, wintry, rainy Midlands .
.. anywhere where two creatures might stand and squeeze together and spoon.... Spooning was a fine art, whereas kissing and cuddling are calf-processes.
Men fight for liberty and win it with hard knocks.
Their children, brought up easy, let it slip away again, poor fools. And their grandchildren are once more slaves.
Every civilization when it loses its inner vision and its cleaner energy, falls into a new sort of sordidness, more vast and more stupendous than the old savage sort. An Augean stable of metallic filth.
My God, what a clumsy olla putrida James Joyce is! Nothing but old fags and cabbage stumps of quotations from the Bible and the rest, stewed in the juice of deliberate, journalistic dirty-mindedness—what old and hard-worked staleness, masquerading as the all-new!
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 snake came to my water trough On a hot, hot day, and I in pajamas for the heat, To drink there.
There is only one thing that a man really wants to do, all his life;
and that is, to find his way to his God, his Morning Star, salute his fellow man, and enjoy the woman who has come the long way with him.
Beauty is a mystery. You can neither eat it nor make flannel out of it.
Never set a child afloat on the flat sea of life with only one sail to catch the wind.
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. Or for no reason at all, except that they are discontented children, and can't be satisfied whatever they get, let a woman do what she may.
In every living thing there is the desire for love.
There's always the hyena of morality at the garden gate, and the real wolf at the end of the street.
The living moment is everything.
We ought to dance with rapture that we should be alive and in the flesh, and part of the living, incarnate cosmos.
Only the desert has a fascination--to ride alone--in the sun in the forever unpossessed country--away from man. That is a great temptation.
The tragedy is when you've got sex in the head instead of down where it belongs.
We don't exist unless we are deeply and sensually in touch with that which can be touched but not known.
Love is the hastening gravitation of spirit towards spirit, and body towards body, in the joy of creation.
Do come back and draw the ferrets, they are the most lovely noble darlings in the world.
Now the only decent way to get something done is to get it done by somebody who quite likes doing it.
Eat and carouse with Bacchus, or munch dry bread with Jesus, but don't sit down without one of the gods.
If a woman hasn't got a tiny streak of a harlot in her, she's a dry stick as a rule.
Reason is a supple nymph, and slippery as a fish by nature.
She had as leave give her kiss to an absurdity any day, as to syllogistic truth. The absurdity may turn out truer.
The essential American soul is hard, isolate, stoic, and a killer. It has never yet melted.
Persephone herself is but a voice or a darkness invisible enfolded in the deeper dark of the arms Plutonic, and pierced with the passion of dense gloom, among the splendor of torches of darkness, shedding darkness on the lost bride and her groom.
The dead don't die. They look on and help.
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 orange and scrub the floor.
Ours is an excessively conscious age. We know so much, we feel so little.
For man, as for flower and beast and bird, the supreme triumph is to be most vividly, most perfectly alive.
Reach me a gentian, give me a torch! let me guide myself with the blue, forked torch of this flower
The autumn always gets me badly, as it breaks into colours.
I want to go south, where there is no autumn, where the cold doesn't crouch over one like a snow-leopard waiting to pounce.
Sex and beauty are inseparable, like life and consciousness.
And the intelligence which goes with sex and beauty, and arises out of sex and beauty, is intuition.
How beautiful maleness is, if it finds its right expression.
Sex is the one thing you cannot really swindle;
and it is the centre of the worst swindling of all, emotional swindling.... Sex lashes out against counterfeit emotion, and is ruthless, devastating against false love.
No form of love is wrong, so long as it is love, and you yourself honour what you are doing. Love has an extraordinary variety of forms! And that is all that there is in life, it seems to me.
Life and love are life and love, a bunch of violets is a bunch of violets, and to drag in the idea of a point is to ruin everything. Live and let live, love and let love, flower and fade, and follow the natural curve, which flows on, pointless.