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Yea, Paris is a festive ton -- a festive Ton for all! Skate o'er on joy -- Thin crust of gilded, polished joy! What matters it if Hell's beneath?

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
Polished
Thin
Beneath
Paris
Festive
Matters
Gilded
Joy
Crust
Hell
Skate
Matter
Skates

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A circle swoop, and a quick parabola under the bridge arches Where light pushes through A sudden turning upon itself of a thing in the air. A dip to the water.
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Death is the only pure, beautiful conclusion of a great passion.
D. H. Lawrence
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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.
D. H. Lawrence
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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.
D. H. Lawrence
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California is a queer place in a way, it has turned its back on the world, and looks into the void Pacific. It is absolutely selfish, very empty, but not false, and at least, not full of false effort.
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If only I am keen and hard like the sheer tip of a wedge Driven by invisible blows, The rock will split, we shall come at the wonder, we shall find the Hesperides.
D. H. Lawrence
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My great religion is a belief in the blood, the flesh, as being wiser than the intellect. We can go wrong in our minds. But what our blood feels and believes and says, is always true. The intellect is only a bit and a bridle.
D. H. Lawrence
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Sleep is still most perfect, in spite of hygienists, when it is shared with a beloved. The warmth, the security and peace of soul, the utter comfort from the touch of the other, knits the sleep, so that it takes the body and soul completely in its healing.
D. H. Lawrence
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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.
D. H. Lawrence
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Naught is possessed, neither gold, nor land nor love, nor life, nor peace, nor even sorrow nor death, nor yet salvation. Say of nothing: It is mine. Say only: It is with me.
D. H. Lawrence
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Only youth has a taste of immortality.
D. H. Lawrence
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The nice clean intimacy which we now so admire between the sexes is sterilizing. It makes neuters. Later on, no deep, magical sex-life is possible.
D. H. Lawrence
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Now man cannot live without some vision of himself. But still less can he live with a vision that is not true to his inner experience and inner feeling.
D. H. Lawrence
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How ravished one could be without ever being touched. Ravished by dead words become obscene and dead ideas become obsessions.
D. H. Lawrence
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The Sphinx-riddle. Solve it, or be torn to bits, is the decree.
D. H. Lawrence
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I am only half there when I am ill, and so there is only half a man to suffer. To suffer in one's whole self is so great a violation, that it is not to be endured.
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Never trust the artist. Trust the tale. The proper function of the critic is to save the tale from the artist who created it.
D. H. Lawrence
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I am in love - and, my God, it is the greatest thing that can happen to a man. I tell you, find a woman you can fall in love with. Do it. Let yourself fall in love. If you have not done so already, you are wasting your life.
D. H. Lawrence
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While we live, let us live.
D. H. Lawrence
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The nature of the infant is not just a new permutation-and-combination of elements contained in the natures of the parents. There is in the nature of the infant that which is utterly unknown in the natures of the parents.
D. H. Lawrence