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The peasants of Sicily, who have kept their own wheat and make their own natural brown bread, ah, it is amazing how fresh and sweet and clean their loaf seems, so perfumed, as home-made bread used all to be before the war.

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
Seems
Brown
Used
Bread
Home
Kept
Perfumed
Made
Amazing
Sicily
Make
Clean
Loaf
Sweet
Peasants
Natural
Wheat
War
Fresh

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Most fatal, most hateful of all things is bullying.... Sensual bullying of course is fairly easily detected. What is more dangerous is ideal bullying. Bullying people into what is ideally good for them.
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The old ideals are dead as nails--nothing there. It seems to me there remains only this perfect union with a woman--sort of ultimate marriage--and there isn't anything else.
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The final aim is not to know, but to be.... You've got to know yourself so that you can at last be yourself. Be yourself is the last motto.
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The upshot was, my paintings must burn that English artists might finally learn.
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The unhappiness of a wife with a good husband is much more devastating than the unhappiness of a wife with a bad husband.
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Money is the seal and stamp of success.
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Now it is autumn and the falling fruit and the long journey towards oblivion. The apples falling like great drops of dew to bruise themselves an exit from themselves.
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Gods die with men who have conceived them. But the god-stuff roars eternally, like the sea, with too vast a sound to be heard.
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The Brangwens had lived for generations on the Marsh Farm, in the meadows where the Erewash twisted sluggishly through alder trees, separating Derbyshire from Nottinghamshire.
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She is my first, great love. She was a wonderful, rare woman - you do not know as strong, and steadfast, and generous as the sun. She could be as swift as a white whiplash, and as kind and gentle as warm rain, and as steadfast as the irreducible earth beneath us.
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All hopes of eternity and all gain from the past he would have given to have her there, to be wrapped warm with him in one blanket, and sleep, only sleep. It seemed the sleep with the woman in his arms was the only necessity.
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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.
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Don't be on the side of the angels, it's too lowering.
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The fairest thing in nature, a flower, still has its roots in earth and manure.
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Creatures that hang themselves up like an old rag, to sleep And disgustingly upside down. Hanging upside down like rows of disgusting old rags And grinning in their sleep. Bats!
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Good God, what does it matter? If life is a tragedy, or a farce, or a disaster, or anything else, what do I care! Let life be what it likes. Give me a drink, that's what I want just now.
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So as long as you can forget your body you are happy and the moment you begin to be aware of your body, you are wretched. So if civilization is any good, it has to help us forget our bodies, and then time passes happily without our knowing it. Help us get rid of our bodies altogether.
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The proper study of mankind is man in his relation to his deity.
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We ought to dance with rapture that we should be alive and in the flesh, and part of the living, incarnate cosmos.
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