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Along the avenue of cypresses, All in their scarlet cloaks and surplices Of linen, go the chanting choristers, The priests in gold and black, the villagers. . . .

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
Avenues
Priests
Villagers
Gold
Cypresses
Along
Linen
Black
Chanting
Cloaks
Scarlet
Avenue

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I think I am much too valuable a creature to offer myself to a German bullet gratis and for fun.
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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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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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The nearer a conception comes towards finality, the nearer does the dynamic relation, out of which this concept has arisen, draw to a close. To know is to lose.
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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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There are three cures for ennui: sleep, drink and travel.
D. H. Lawrence
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Those that go searching for love only make manifest their own lovelessness, and the loveless never find love, only the loving find love, and they never have to seek for it.
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Marriage is the clue to human life, but there is no marriage apart from the wheeling sun and the nodding earth, from the strayingof the planets and the magnificence of the fixed stars.
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Perhaps only people who are capable of real togetherness have that look of being alone in the universe. The others have a certain stickiness, they stick to the mass.
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The world is wonderful and beautiful and good beyond one's wildest imagination.
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The world of men is dreaming, it has gone mad in its sleep, and a snake is strangling it, but it can't wake up.
D. H. Lawrence
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But better die than live mechanically a life that is a repetition of repetitions.
D. H. Lawrence
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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.
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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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.
D. H. Lawrence
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I should like [people] to like the purely individual thing in themselves, which makes them act in singleness. and They only like to do the collective thing.
D. H. Lawrence
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Whales in mid-ocean, suspended in the waves of the sea great heaven of whales in the waters, old hierarchies. And enormous mother whales lie dreaming suckling their whale-tender young and dreaming with strange whale eyes wide open in the waters of the beginning and the end.
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Now the only decent way to get something done is to get it done by somebody who quite likes doing it.
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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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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