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Not that the Red Indian will ever possess the broad lands of America. At least I presume not. But his ghost will.
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
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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
Least
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Ghost
Indian
Red
Presume
Land
Lands
More quotes by D. H. Lawrence
Now go away then, and leave me alone. I don't want any more of your meretricious persiflage.
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Primarily I am a passionately religious man, and my novels must be written from the depth of my religious experience.
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And every true artist is the salvation of every other. But only artists produce for each other the world that is fit to live in.
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I can never decide whether my dreams are the result of my thoughts, or my thoughts the result of my dreams.
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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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One must learn to love, and go through a good deal of suffering to get to it... and the journey is always towards the other soul.
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We don't exist unless we are deeply and sensually in touch with that which can be touched but not known.
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The # cosmos is a vast living body, of which we are still parts.
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The world is wonderful and beautiful and good beyond one's wildest imagination. Never, never, never could one conceive what love is, beforehand, never. Life can be great-quite god-like. It can be so. God be thanked I have proved it.
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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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And all the time she felt the reflection of his hopelessness in her. She couldn't quite, quite love in hoplessness. And he, being hopeless, couldn't ever love at all.
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[Hawthorne''s] pious blame is a chuckle of praise all the while.
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Morality which is based on ideas, or on an ideal, is an unmitigated evil.
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In the ancient recipe, the three antidotes for dullness or boredom are sleep, drink, and travel. It is rather feeble. From sleep you wake up, from drink you become sober, and from travel you come home again. And then where are you? No, the two sovereign remedies for dullness are love or a crusade.
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Truth does not lie beyond humanity, but is one of the products of the human mind and feeling.
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Death is ... a travelling asunder into elemental chaos. And from the elemental chaos all is cast forth again into creation. Therefore death also is but a cul-de-sac, a melting-pot.
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I like relativity and quantum theories because I don't understand them and they make me feel as if space shifted about like a swan that can't settle, refusing to sit still and be measured and as if the atom were an impulsive thing always changing its mind.
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The whole point about the true unconscious is that it is all the time moving forward, beyond the range of its own fixed laws or habits. It is no good trying to superimpose an ideal nature upon the unconscious.
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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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Most men have a deadness in them that frightens me so because of my own deadness. Why can't men get their life straight, like St.Mawr, and then think? Why can't they think quick, mother: quick as a woman: only farther than we do?
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