Quote

The Spanish wine, my God, it is foul, catpiss is champagne compared, this is the sulphurous urination of some aged horse.

D. H. Lawrence

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D. H. Lawrence
Age: 45 †
Born: 1885
Born: January 1
Died: 1930
Died: January 1
Literary Critic
Novelist
Painter
Playwright
Poet
Screenwriter
Translator
Writer
Eastwood
Nottinghamshire
David Herbert Lawrence
Lawrence H. Davison
D.H. Lawrence
D. H. Lorenss
D. G. Lourens
David Herbert Richards Lawrence
D. H. David Herbert Lawrence
Horse
Aged
Food
Champagne
Spanish
Foul
Culinary
Compared
Cooking
Wine

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They say the sea is cold, but the sea contains the hottest blood of all, and the wildest, the most urgent.
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We've got to live, no matter how many skies have fallen.
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The human being is a most curious creature. He thinks he has got one soul, and he has got dozens.
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What's that as flies without wings, your ladyship? Time! Time!
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Only this shimmeriness is the real living. The shape is a dead crust. The shimmer is inside really.
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For, of course, being a girl, one’s whole dignity and meaning in life consisted in the achievement of an absolute, a perfect, a pure and noble freedom. What else did a girl’s life mean?
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The more I see of democracy the more I dislike it. It just brings everything down to the mere vulgar level of wages and prices, electric light and water closets, and nothing else.
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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.
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Since obscenity is the truth of our passion today, it is the only stuff of art -- or almost the only stuff.
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That is your trick, your bit of filthy magic: invisibility, and the anaesthetic power to deaden my attention in your direction.
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We are dying, we are dying, we are all of us dying and nothing will stay the death-flood rising within us and soon it will rise on the world, on the outside world.
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Consciousness is an end in itself. We torture ourselves getting somewhere, and when we get there it is nowhere, for there is nowhere to get to.
D. H. Lawrence
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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.
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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.
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The more scholastically educated a man is generally, the more he is an emotional boor.
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The picture must all come out of the artist's inside, awareness of forms and figures... It is more than memory. It is the image as it lives in the consciousness, alive like a vision, but unknown.
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Only at his maximum does an individual surpass all his derivative elements, and become purely himself. And most people never get there. In his own pure individuality a man surpasses his father and mother, and is utterly unknown to them.
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Myth is an attempt to narrate a whole human experience, of which the purpose is too deep, going too deep in the blood and soul, for mental explanation or description.
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One sheds one's sicknesses in books - repeats and presents again one's emotions, to be master of them.
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One should stick by one's soul, and by nothing else. In one's soul, one knows the truth from the untruth, and life from death. And if one betrays one's own soul-knowledge one is the worst of traitors.
D. H. Lawrence