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In the dust where we have buried the silent races and their abominations we have buried so much of the delicate magic of life.
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
Race
Abomination
Much
Races
Life
Delicate
Buried
Dust
Silent
Civilization
Magic
Abominations
More quotes by D. H. Lawrence
What's that as flies without wings, your ladyship? Time! Time!
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Sometimes life takes hold of one, carries the body along, accomplishes one's history, and yet is not real, but leaves oneself as it were slurred over.
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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.
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A man must keep his earnestness nimble, to escape ridicule.
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O pity the dead that are dead, but cannot make the journey, still they moan and beat against the silvery adamant walls of life's exclusive city.
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I am part of the sun as my eye is of me. That I am part of the earth my feet know perfectly, and my blood is part of the sea.
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I believe the nearest I've come to perfect love was with a young coal-miner when I was about 16.
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When love turns into dust, money becomes the substitution.
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In America the cohesion was a matter of choice and will. But in Europe it was organic.
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A man was like a child with his appetites. A woman had to yield him what he wanted, or like a child he would probably turn nasty and flounce away and spoil what was a very pleasant connection.
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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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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.
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For God’s sake, let us be men not monkeys minding machines or sitting with our tails curled while the machine amuses us, the radio or film or gramophone. Monkeys with a bland grin on our faces.
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They lived freely among the students, they argued with the men over philosophical, sociological and artistic matters, they were just as good as the men themselves: only better, since they were women.
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A man will part with anything so long as he's drunk, and you're drunk with him.
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Whatever men you take, keep the idea of man intact: let your soul wait whether your body does or not.
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Recklessness is almost a man's revenge on his woman. He feels he is not valued so he will risk destroying himself to deprive her altogether.
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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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[During the Renaissance] the Italians said, We are one in the Father: we will go back. The Northern races said, We are one in Christ, we will go on.
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The modern pantheist not only sees the god in everything, he takes photographs of it.
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