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What We Want Is To Destroy Our False, Inorganic Connections, Especially Those Related To Money, And Re-establish The Living Organic Connections, With The Cosmos, The Sun And Earth, With Mankind And Nation And Family. Start With The Sun, And The Rest Will Slowly, Slowly Happen.

-D. H. Lawrence

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What We Want Is

D. H. Lawrence

...

What We Want Is To Destroy Our False, Inorganic Connections, Especially Those Related To Money, And Re-establish The Living Organic Connections, With The Cosmos, The Sun And Earth, With Mankind And Nation And Family. Start With The Sun, And The Rest Will Slowly, Slowly Happen.

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Having Achieved And Accomplished Love, Then The Man Passes Into The Unknown. He Has Become Himself, His Tale Is Told.

The Autumn Always Gets Me Badly, As It Breaks Into Colours. I Want To Go South, Where There Is No Autumn, Where The Cold Doesn't Crouch Over One Like A Snow-leopard Waiting To Pounce.

Only In A Novel Are All Things Given Full Play.

We Only Seem To Learn From Life That Life Doesn't Matter So Much As It Seemed To Do - It's Not So Burningly Important, After All, What Happens. We Crawl, Like Blinking Sea-creatures, Out Of The Ocean Onto A Spur Of Rock, We Creep Over The Promontory Bewildered And Dazzled And Hurting Ourselves, Then We Drop In The Ocean On The Other Side: And The Little Transit Doesn't Matter So Much.

One Realm We Have Never Conquered: The Pure Present.

One Should Stick By One's Soul, And By Nothing Else. In One's Soul, One Knows The Truth From The Untruth, And Life From Death. And If One Betrays One's Own Soul-knowledge One Is The Worst Of Traitors.

I Believe The Nearest I've Come To Perfect Love Was With A Young Coal-miner When I Was About 16.

Another Head - And A Black Alpaca Jacket And A Serviette This Time - To Tell Us Coffee Is Ready. Not Before It Is Time, Too.

The True Self Is Not Aware That It Is A Self. A Bird, As It Sings, Sings Itself. But Not According To A Picture. It Has No Idea Of Itself.

In The Short Summer Night She Learned So Much. She Would Have Thought A Woman Would Have Died Of Shame... She Felt, Now, She Had Come To The Real Bedrock Of Her Nature, And Was Essentially Shameless. She Was Her Sensual Self, Naked An Unashamed. She Felt A Triumph, Almost A Vainglory. So! That Was How It Was! That Was Life! That Was How Onself Really Was! There Was Nothing Left To Disguise Or Be Ashamed Of. She Shared Her Ultimate Nakedness With A Man, Another Being.

The One Woman Who Never Gives Herself Is Your Free Woman, Who Is Always Giving Herself.

Nothing But Love Has Made The Dog Lose His Wild Freedom, To Become The Servant Of Man.

Anatomy Presupposes A Corpse; Psychology Presupposes A World Of Corpses.

I Hate England And Its Hopelessness. I Hate [arnold] Bennett's Resignation. Tragedy Ought Really To Be A Great Big Kick At Misery.

When Science Starts To Be Interpretive It Is More Unscientific Even Than Mysticism.

I Shall Always Be A Priest Of Love.

If Only We Could Live Two Lives: The First In Which To Make One's Mistakes, And The Second In Which To Profit By Them.

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.

I Believe That The Highest Virtue Is To Be Happy, Living In The Greatest Truth, Not Submitting To The Falsehood Of These Personaltimes.

Imitate The Magnificent Trees That Speak No Word Of Their Rapture, But Only Breathe Largely The Luminous Breeze.

If You Don't Like It, Alter It, And If You Can't Alter It, Put Up With It.

And To My Lips' Bright Crimson Rim The Passion Slips, And Down My Slim White Body Drips The Shining Hymn.

One Sheds One's Sicknesses In Books - Repeats And Presents Again One's Emotions, To Be Master Of Them.

The English People On The Whole Are Surely The Nicest People In The World, And Everybody Makes Everything So Easy For Everyone Else, That There Is Almost Nothing To Resist At All.

The History Of Our Era Is The Nauseating And Repulsive History Of The Crucifixion Of The Procreative Body For The Glorification Ofthe Spirit.

Comes Over One An Absolute Necessity To Move. And What Is More, To Move In Some Particular Direction. A Double Necessity Then: To Get On The Move, And To Know Whither.

Beauty Is A Mystery. You Can Neither Eat It Nor Make Flannel Out Of It.

They Were Evidently Small Men, All Wind And Quibbles, Flinging Out Their Chuffy Grain To Us With Far Less Interest Than A Farm-wife Feels As She Scatters Corn To Her Fowls.

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.

The Great Virtue In Life Is Real Courage That Knows How To Face Facts And Live Beyond Them.

Marriage And Deathless Friendship, Both Should Be Inviolable And Sacred: Two Great Creative Passions, Separate, Apart, But Complementary: The One Pivotal, The Other Adventurous: The One, Marriage, The Centre Of Human Life; And The Other, The Leap Ahead.

For {she} Had Adopted The Standard Of The Young: What There Was In The Moment Was Everything. And Moments Followed One Another Without Necessarily Belonging To One Another.

And Still I Look For The Men Who Will Dare To Be Roses Of England Wild Roses Of England Men Who Are Wild Roses Of England With Metal Thorns, Beware! But Still More Brave And Still More Rare The Courage Of Rosiness In A Cabbage World Fragrance Of Roses In A Stale Stink Of Lies Rose-leaves To Bewilder The Clever Fools And Rose-briars To Strangle The Machine.

Aren't I Enough For You?' She Asked. 'no,' He Said. 'you Are Enough For Me, As Far As A Woman Is Concerned. You Are All Women To Me. But I Wanted A Man Friend, As Eternal As You And I Are Eternal.' (women In Love)

A Snake Came To My Water Trough On A Hot, Hot Day, And I In Pajamas For The Heat, To Drink There.

How The Horse Dominated The Mind Of The Early Races Especially Of The Mediterranean! You Were A Lord If You Had A Horse. Far Back, Far Back In Our Dark Soul The Horse Prances...the Horse, The Horse! The Symbol Of Surging Potency And Power Of Movement, Of Action In Man!

He Reflected On The Decay Of Mankind-the Decline Of The Human Race Into Folly And Weakness And Rottenness. 'be A Good Animal, True To Your Animal Instinct' Was His Motto.

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.

The Horse, The Horse! The Symbol Of Surging Potency And Power Of Movement, Of Action.

They Say Geniuses Mostly Have Great Mothers. They Mostly Have Sad Fates.

The Feelings I Don't Have I Don't Have. The Feelings I Don't Have, I Won't Say I Have. The Felings You Say You Have, You Don't Have. The Feelings You Would Like Us Both To Have, We Neither Of Us Have.

And That Is How We Are. By Strength Of Will We Cut Off Our Inner Intuitive Knowledge From Admitted Consciousness. This Causes A State Of Dread, Or Apprehension, Which Makes The Blow Ten Times Worse When It Does Fall.

Men Are Not Free When They're Doing Just What They Like. Men Are Only Free When They're Doing What The Deepest Self Likes. And There Is Getting Down To The Deepest Self! It Takes Some Diving.

It's Bad Taste To Be Wise All The Time, Like Being At A Perpetual Funeral.

We Can Understand That The Fathers Of The Church In The East Wanted Apocalypse Left Out Of The New Testament. But Like Judas Among The Disciples, It Was Inevitable That It Should Be Included. The Apocalypse Is The Feet Of Clay To The Grand Christian Image. And Down Crashes The Image, On The Weakness Of These Very Feet. There Is Jesus--but There Is Also John The Divine. There Is Christian Love--and There Is Christian Envy. The Former Would "save" The World--the Latter Will Never Be Satisfied Till It Has Destroyed The World. They Are Two Sides Of The Same Medal.

The Living Moment Is Everything.

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. . . .

If It Be Not True To Me, What Care I How True It Be.. Though It Be Not True To Thee, It's Gay And Gospel Truth To Me.

Mankind Has Got To Get Back To The Rhythm Of The Cosmos.

I Cannot Get Any Sense Of An Enemy - Only Of A Disaster.

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.

The Human Soul Needs Actual Beauty Even More Than Bread.

A Woman Unsatisfied Must Have Luxuries. But A Woman Who Loves A Man Would Sleep On A Board

The Aztec Gods And Goddesses Are, As Far As We Have Known Anything About Them, An Unlovely And Unlovable Lot. In Their Myths There Is No Grace Or Charm, No Poetry. Only This Perpetual Grudge, Grudge, Grudging, One God Grudging Another, The Gods Grudging Men Their Existence, And Men Grudging The Animals. The Goddess Of Love Is Goddess Of Dirt And Prostitution, A Dirt-eater, A Horror, Without A Touch Of Tenderness.

We Are So Overwhelmed With Quantities Of Books, That We Hardly Realise Any More That A Book Can Be Valuable, Valuable Like A Jewel, Or A Lovely Picture, Into Which You Can Look Deeper And Deeper And Get A More Profound Experience Every Time.

They Wanted Genuine Intimacy, But They Could Not Get Even Normally Near To Anyone, Because They Scorned To Take The First Steps, They Scorned The Triviality Which Forms Common Human Intercourse.

He Felt He Had Lost It For Good, He Knew What It Was To Have Been In Communication With Her, And To Be Cast Off Again. In Misery, His Heart Like A Heavy Stone, He Went About Unliving.

The Spanish Wine, My God, It Is Foul, Catpiss Is Champagne Compared, This Is The Sulphurous Urination Of Some Aged Horse.

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.

The Whole Life-effort Of Man Is To Get His Life Into Direct Contact With The Elemental Life Of The Cosmos, Mountain Life, Cloud Life, Thunder Life, Air Life, Earth Life, Sun Life. To Come Into Immediate Felt Contact, And So Derive Energy, Power And A Dark Sort Of Joy. This Effort Into Sheer Naked Contact, Without An Intermediary Or Mediator Is The Root Meaning Of Religion.

I Do Esteem Individual Liberty Above Everything. What Is A Nation For, But To Secure The Maximum Liberty To Every Individual?

I Am A Man And Alive. For This Reason I Am A Novelist. And, Being A Novelist, I Consider Myself Superior To The Saint, Te Scientist, The Philosopher, And The Poet, Who Are All Great Masters Of Different Bits Of Man Alive, But Never Get The Whole Hog....only In The Novel Are All Things Given Full Play.

It Is Our Business To Go As We Are Impelled.

You Love Me So Much, You Want To Put Me In Your Pocket. And I Should Die There Smothered.

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.

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." "and They Rock, And They Rock, Through The Sensual Ageless Ages On The Depths Of The Seven Seas, And Through The Salt They Reel With Drunken Delight And In The Tropics Tremble They With Love And Roll With Massive, Strong Desire, Like Gods.

Anyone Who Is Kind To Man Knows The Fragmentariness Of Most Men, And Wants To Arrange A Society Of Power In Which Men Fall Naturally Into A Collective Wholeness, Since They Cannot Have An Individual Wholeness. In This Collective Wholeness They Will Be Fulfilled. But If They Make Efforts At Individual Fulfilment, They Must Fail For They Are By Nature Fragmentary.

I Know The Greatness Of Christianity; It Is A Past Greatness.. I Live In 1924, And The Christian Venture Is Done.

Life Is Beautiful, As Long As It Consumes You. When It Is Rushing Through You, Destroying You, Life Is Gorgeous, Glorious. It's When You Burn A Slow Fire And Save Fuel, That Life's Not Worth Having.

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.

All Vital Truth Contains The Memory Of All That For Which It Is Not True.

We Are Dying, We Are Dying, Piecemeal Our Bodies Are Dying And Our Strength Leaves Us, And Our Soul Cowers Naked In The Dark Rain Over The Flood, Cowering In The Last Branches Of The Tree Of Our Life.

Night, In Which Everything Was Lost, Went Reaching Out, Beyond Stars And Sun. Stars And Sun, A Few Bright Grains, Went Spiraling Round For Terror, And Holding Each Other In Embrace, There In A Darkness That Outpassed Them All, And Left Them Tiny And Daunted. So Much, And Himself, Infinitesimal, At The Core Of Nothingness, And Yet Not Nothing.

This Is The Very Worst Wickedness, That We Refuse To Acknowledge The Passionate Evil That Is In Us. This Makes Us Secret And Rotten.

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.

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.

Psychoanalysis Is Out, Under A Therapeutic Disguise, To Do Away Entirely With The Moral Faculty In Man.

Any Inhibition Must Be Wrong, Since Inevitably In The End It Causes Neurosis And Insanity.

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.

What We Want Is To Destroy Our False, Inorganic Connections, Especially Those Related To Money, And Re-establish The Living Organic Connections, With The Cosmos, The Sun And Earth, With Mankind And Nation And Family. Start With The Sun, And The Rest Will Slowly, Slowly Happen.

A Man And A Woman Are New To One Another Throughout A Life-time, In The Rhythm Of Marriage That Matches The Rhythm Of The Year. Sex Is The Balance Of Male And Female In The Universe, The Attraction, The Repulsion, The Transit Of Neutrality, The New Attraction, The Repulsion, Always Different, Always New.

What's That As Flies Without Wings, Your Ladyship? Time! Time!

Nobody Knows You. You Don't Know Yourself. And I, Who Am Half In Love With You, What Am I In Love With? My Own Imaginings?

Mystic Equality Lies In Abstraction, Not In Having Or In Doing, Which Are Processes. In Function And Process, One Man, One Part, Must Of Necessity Be Subordinate To Another. It Is A Condition Of Being.

We Do All Like To Get Things Inside A Barb-wire Corral. Especially Our Fellow-men. We Love To Round Them Up Inside The Barb-wire Enclosure Of Freedom, And Make 'em Work. Work, You Free Jewel, Work! Shouts The Liberator, Cracking His Whip.

I Have A Very Great Fear Of Love. It Is So Personal. Let Each Bird Fly With Its Own Wings, And Each Fish Swim Its Own Course.--morning Brings More Than Love. And I Want To Be True To The Morning.

Your Most Vital Necessity In This Life Is That You Shall Love Your Wife Completely And Implicitly And In An Entire Nakedness Of Body And Spirit.... This That I Tell You Is My Message As Far As I've Got Any.

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.

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.

In America The Chief Accusation Seems To Be One Of "eroticism." This Is Odd, Rather Puzzling To My Mind. Which Eros? Eros Of The Jaunty "amours," Or Eros Of The Sacred Mysteries? And If The Latter, Why Accuse, Why Not Respect, Even Venerate?

There Is A Sixth Sense, The Natural Religious Sense, The Sense Of Wonder.

I Never Know When I Sit Down, Just What I Am Going To Write. I Make No Plan; It Just Comes, And I Don't Know Where It Comes From.

While The White Man Keeps The Impetus Of His Own Proud, Onward March, The Dark Races Will Yield And Serve, Perforce. But Let The White Man Once Have A Misgiving About His Own Leadership, And The Dark Races Will At Once Attack Him, To Pull Him Down Into The Old Gulfs.

A Man Will Part With Anything So Long As He's Drunk, And You're Drunk With Him.

Our Civilisation Cannot Afford To Let The Censor-moron Loose. The Censor-moron Does Not Really Hate Anything But The Living And Growing Human Consciousness.

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.

They Say The Sea Is Cold, But The Sea Contains The Hottest Blood Of All, And The Wildest, The Most Urgent.

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.

Pornography Is The Attempt To Insult Sex, To Do Dirt On It.

The Day Of The Absolute Is Over, And We're In For The Strange Gods Once More.

Eat And Carouse With Bacchus, Or Munch Dry Bread With Jesus, But Don't Sit Down Without One Of The Gods.

She Looked At Him, And Oh, The Weariness To Her, Of The Effort To Understand Another Language, The Weariness Of Hearing Him, Attending To Him, Making Out Who He Was, As He Stood There Fair-bearded And Alien, Looking At Her. She Knew Something Of Him, Of His Eyes. But She Could Not Grasp Him. She Closed Her Eyes.

We Have Buried So Much Of The Delicate Magic Of Life.

Not That The Red Indian Will Ever Possess The Broad Lands Of America. At Least I Presume Not. But His Ghost Will.

Native American

You Must Drop All Your Democracy. You Must Not Believe In ''the People.'' One Class Is No Better Than Another. It Must Be A Case Of Wisdom, Or Truth. Let The Working Classes Be Working Classes. That Is The Truth. There Must Be An Aristocracy Of People Who Have Wisdom, And There Must Be A Ruler: A Kaiser: No Presidents And Democracies.

I Want To Live My Life So That My Nights Are Not Full Of Regrets.

I'd Wipe The Machines Off The Face Of The Earth Again, And End The Industrial Epoch Absolutely, Like A Black Mistake.

There's Lots Of Good Fish In The Sea...maybe...but The Vast Masses Seem To Be Mackerel Or Herring, And If You're Not Mackerel Or Herring Yourself, You Are Likely To Find Very Few Good Fish In The Sea.

Design In Art, Is A Recognition Of The Relation Between Various Things, Various Elements In The Creative Flux. You Can't Invent A Design. You Recognize It, In The Fourth Dimension. That Is, With Your Blood And Your Bones, As Well As With Your Eyes.

It Grew Late. Through The Open Door, Stealthily, Came The Scent Of Madonna Lilies, Almost As If It Were Prowling Abroad.

Democracy And Equality Try To Denythe Mystic Recognition Of Difference And Innate Priority, The Joy Of Obedience And The Sacred Responsibility Of Authority.

The Fairest Thing In Nature, A Flower, Still Has Its Roots In Earth And Manure.

Money Poisons You When You've Got It, And Starves You When You Haven't.

It Is A Fine Thing To Establish One's Own Religion In One's Heart, Not To Be Dependent On Tradition And Second-hand Ideals. Life Will Seem To You, Later, Not A Lesser, But A Greater Thing.

Men Always Do Leave Off Really Thinking, When The Last Bit Of Wild Animal Dies In Them.

There Is Nothing To Save, Now All Is Lost, But A Tiny Core Of Stillness In The Heart Like The Eye Of A Violet.

Plant Consciousness, Insect Consciousness, Fish Consciousness, All Are Related By One Permanent Element, Which We May Call The Religious Element Inherent In All Life, Even In A Flea: The Sense Of Wonder. That Is Our Sixth Sense, And It Is The Natural Religious Sense.

I Like Australia Less And Less. The Hateful Newness, The Democratic Conceit, Every Man A Little Pope Of Perfection.

You Don't Want To Love - Your Eternal And Abnormal Craving Is To Be Loved. You Aren't Positive, You're Negative. You Absorb, Absorb, As If You Must Fill Yourself Up With Love, Because You've Got A Shortage Somewhere.

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.

I Will Wait And Watch Till The Day Of David At Last Shall Be Finished, And Wisdom No More Fox-faced, And The Blood Gets Back Its Flame.

Men Live In Glad Obedience To The Masters They Believe In, Or They Live In A Frictional Opposition To The Master They Wish To Undermine.

There Is Only One Thing That A Man Really Wants To Do, All His Life; And That Is, To Find His Way To His God, His Morning Star, Salute His Fellow Man, And Enjoy The Woman Who Has Come The Long Way With Him.

The Only Reality Was Nothingness, And Over It A Hypocrisy Of Words.

Sex Is The One Thing You Cannot Really Swindle; And It Is The Centre Of The Worst Swindling Of All, Emotional Swindling.... Sex Lashes Out Against Counterfeit Emotion, And Is Ruthless, Devastating Against False Love.

[u]nless A Woman Is Held, By Man, Safe Within The Bounds Of Belief, She Becomes Inevitably A Destructive Force.

But Better Die Than Live Mechanically A Life That Is A Repetition Of Repetitions.

Any Novel Of Importance Has A Purpose. If Only The "purpose" Be Large Enough, And Not At Outs With The Passional Inspiration.

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.

Shall I Tell You What You Have That Other Men Don't?.... It's The Courage Of Your Own Tenderness.

Ethics And Equity And The Principles Of Justice Do Not Change With The Calendar.

Ethical Principles

Try To Find Your Deepest Issue In Every Confusion, And Abide By That.

No Creature Is Fully Itself Till It Is, Like The Dandelion, Opened In The Bloom Of Pure Relationship To The Sun, The Entire Living Cosmos.

The Mystery Of The Evening-star Brilliant In Silence And Distance Between The Downward-surging Plunge Of The Sun And The Vast, Hollow Seething Of Inpouring Night. The Magnificence Of The Watchful Morning-star, That Watches Between The Night And The Day, The Gleaming Clue To The Two Opposites.

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.

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.

Man Is A Thought-adventurer.

You Must Always Be A-waggle With Love.

There Is No Smooth Road Into The Future: But We Go Round, Or Scramble Over The Obstacles.

Money Is A Sort Of Instinct. It's A Sort Of Property Of Nature In A Person To Make Money. It's Nothing You Do. It's No Trick You Play. It's A Sort Of Permanent Accident Of Your Own Nature; Once You Start, You Make Money, And You Go On. . . But You've Got To Begin. . . You've Got To Get In. You Can Do Nothing If You Are Kept Outside. You've Got To Beat Your Way In. Once You've Done That, You Can't Help It!

So Long As You Don't Feel Life's Paltry And A Miserable Business, The Rest Doesn't Matter, Happiness Or Unhappiness.

Don't Be On The Side Of The Angels, It's Too Lowering.

I Cannot Be A Materialist - But Oh, How Is It Possible That A God Who Speaks To All Hearts Can Let Belgravia Go Laughing To A Vicious Luxury, And Whitechapel Cursing To A Filthy Debauchery - Such Suffering, Such Dreadful Suffering - And Shall The Short Years Of Christ's Mission Atone For It All?

An Illusion Which Is A Real Experience Is Worth Having.

The Whole Question Of Pornography Seems To Me A Question Of Secrecy. Without Secrecy There Would Be No Pornography. But Secrecy And Modesty Are Two Utterly Different Things. Secrecy Has Always An Element Of Fear In It, Amounting Very Often To Hate. Modesty Is Gentle And Reserved. Today, Modesty Is Thrown To The Winds, Even In The Presence Of The Grey Guardians. But Secrecy Is Hugged, Being A Vice In Itself. And The Attitude Of The Grey Ones Is: Dear Young Ladies, You May Abandon All Modesty, So Long As You Hug Your Dirty Little Secret.

Be Still When You Have Nothing To Say; When Genuine Passion Moves You, Say What You've Got To Say, And Say It Hot.

How I Hate The Attitude Of Ordinary People To Life. How I Loathe Ordinariness! How From My Soul I Abhor Nice Simple People, With Their Eternal Price List. It Makes My Blood Boil.

The Novel Is The One Bright Book Of Life. Books Are Not Life. They Are Only Tremulations On The Ether. But The Novel As A Tremulation Can Make The Whole Man Alive Tremble.

The Essential American Soul Is Hard, Isolate, Stoic, And A Killer. It Has Never Yet Melted.

One Never Can Know The Whys And The Wherefores Of One's Passional Changes.

Do Come Back And Draw The Ferrets, They Are The Most Lovely Noble Darlings In The World.

What You Intuitively Desire, That Is Possible To You.

My Whole Working Philosophy Is That The Only Stable Happiness For Mankind Is That It Shall Live Married In Blessed Union To Woman-kind - Intimacy, Physical And Psychical Between A Man And His Wife. I Wish To Add That My State Of Bliss Is By No Means Perfect.

But Having More Freedom She Only Became More Profoundly Aware Of The Big Want. She Wanted So Many Things. She Wanted To Read Great, Beautiful Books, And Be Rich With Them; She Wanted To See Beautiful Things, And Have The Joy Of Them For Ever; She Wanted To Know Big, Free People; And There Remained Always The Want She Could Put No Name To? It Was So Difficult. There Were So Many Things, So Much To Meet And Surpass. And One Never Knew Where One Was Going.

The Flood Subsides, And The Body, Like A Worn Sea-shell Emerges Strange And Lovely.

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.

I Am Part Of The Sun As My Eye Is Part Of Me. That I Am Part Of The Earth My Feet Know Perfectly, And My Blood Is Part Of The Sea. There Is Not Any Part Of Me That Is Alone And Absolute Except My Mind, And We Shall Find That The Mind Has No Existence By Itself, It Is Only The Glitter Of The Sun On The Surfaces Of The Water.

The Source Of All Life And Knowledge Is In #‎ Man And #‎ Woman , And The Source Of All Living Is In The Interchange And The Meeting And Mingling Of These Two: Man-life And Woman-life, Man-knowledge And Woman-knowledge , Man-being And Woman-being.

Life Is A Travelling To The Edge Of Knowledge, Then A Leap Taken.

Museums, Museums, Object-lessons Rigged Out To Illustrate The Unsound Theories Of Archaeologists, Crazy Attempts To Co-ordinate And Get Into A Fixed Order That Which Has No Fixed Order And Will Not Be Co-coordinated! It Is Sickening! Why Must All Experience Be Systematized? A Museum Is Not A First-hand Contact: It Is An Illustrated Lecture. And What One Wants Is The Actual Vital Touch.

... He Preferred His Own Madness, To The Regular Sanity. He Rejoiced In His Own Madness, He Was Free. He Did Not Want That Old Sanity Of The World, Which Was Become So Repulsive. He Rejoiced In The New-found World Of His Madness. It Was So Fresh And Delicate And So Satisfying.

Sleep Is Still Most Perfect, In Spite Of Hygienists, When It Is Shared With A Beloved.

How To Begin To Educate A Child. First Rule: Leave Him Alone. Second Rule: Leave Him Alone. Third Rule: Leave Him Alone. That Is The Whole Beginning.

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?

I Think I Am Much Too Valuable A Creature To Offer Myself To A German Bullet Gratis And For Fun.

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.

I Don't Believe Any More In Democracy. But I Can't Believe In The Old Sort Of Aristocracy, Either, Nor Can I Wish It Back, Splendid As It Was. What I Believe In Is The Old Homeric Aristocracy, When The Grandeur Was Inside A Man, And He Lived In A Simple Wooden House.

Never Trust The Teller, Trust The Tale.

Satire Exists For The Purpose Of Killing The Social Being [for The Sake Of] The True Individual, The Real Human Being.

Sex Is The Root Of Which Intuition Is The Foliage And Beauty Is The Flower.

The Sphinx-riddle. Solve It, Or Be Torn To Bits, Is The Decree.

In Every Great Novel, Who Is The Hero All The Time? Not Any Of The Characters, But Some Unnamed And Nameless Flame Behind Them All.

Now The Only Decent Way To Get Something Done Is To Get It Done By Somebody Who Quite Likes Doing It.

But That Is How Men Are! Ungrateful And Never Satisfied. When You Don't Have Them They Hate You Because You Won't; And When You Do Have Them They Hate You Again, For Some Other Reason. Or For No Reason At All, Except That They Are Discontented Children, And Can't Be Satisfied Whatever They Get, Let A Woman Do What She May.

The Great Home Of The Soul Is The Open Road.

You Live By What You Thrill To, And There's The End Of It.

Why Doesn't The Past Decently Bury Itself, Instead Of Sitting Waiting To Be Admired By The Present?

The Spirit Of The Place Is A Strange Thing. Our Mechanical Age Tries To Override It. But It Does Not Succeed. In The End The Strange, Sinister Spirit Of The Place, So Diverse And Adverse In Differing Places, Will Smash Our Mechanical Oneness Into Smithereens.

What Is The Knocking? What Is The Knocking At The Door In The Night? It Is Somebody Who Wants To Do Us Harm. No, No, It Is The Three Strange Angels. Admit Them, Admit Them.

Their Whole Life Depends On Spending Money, And Now They’ve Got None To Spend. That’s Our Civilization And Our Education: Bring Up The Masses To Depend Entirely On Spending Money, And Then The Money Gives Out.

And If Tonight My Soul May Find Her Peace In Sleep, And Sink In Good Oblivion, And In The Morning Wake Like A New-opened Flower Then I Have Been Dipped Again In God, And New-created.

I Am Convinced That The Air We Normally Breathe Is A Kind Of Water, And Men And Women Are A Species Of Fish.

When I Read Shakespeare I Am Struck With Wonder That Such Trivial People Should Muse And Thunder In Such Lovely Language.

If I Had My Way, I Would Build A Lethal Chamber As Big As The Crystal Palace, With A Military Band Playing Softly, And A Cinematograph Working Brightly; Then I'd Go Out In The Back Streets And Main Streets And Bring Them In, All The Sick, The Halt, And The Maimed; I Would Lead Them Gently, And They Would Smile Me A Weary Thanks; And The Band Would Softly Bubble Out The 'hallelujah Chorus'.

I Should Think The American Admiration Of Five-minute Tourists Has Done More To Kill The Sacredness Of Old European Beauty And Aspiration Than Multitudes Of Bombs Would Have Done.

Tragedy Looks To Me Like Man In Love With His Own Defeat. Which Is Only A Sloppy Way Of Being In Love With Yourself.

Isn't It God's Own Image? Tramping His Thirty Miles A Day After Partridges, Or A Little Rubber Ball? Wouldn't You Like To Be Like That, Well Off, And Quite The Thing?

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.

Sight Is The Least Sensual Of All The Senses. And We Strain Ourselves To See, See, See--everything, Everything Through The Eye, Inone Mode Of Objective Curiosity.

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.

Give Up Bearing Children And Bear Hope And Love And Devotion To Those Already Born.

What Sex Is, We Don't Know, But It Must Be Some Sort Of Fire. For It Always Communicates A Sense Of Warmth, Of Glow. And When This Glow Becomes A Pure Shine, Then We Feel The Sense Of Beauty. We All Have The Fire Of Sex Slumbering Or Burning Inside Us. If We Live To Be Ninety, It Is Still There. Or, If It Dies, We Become One Of Those Ghastly Living Corpses Which Are Unfortunately Becoming More Numerous In The World.

I Think Societal Instinct Much Deeper Than Sex Instinct — And Societal Repression Much More Devastating.

If I Were The Moon, I Know Where I Would Fall Down.

Sometimes Snakes Can’t Slough. They Can’t Burst Their Old Skin. Then They Go Sick And Die Inside The Old Skin, And Nobody Ever Sees The New Pattern. It Needs A Real Desperate Recklessness To Burst Your Old Skin At Last. You Simply Don’t Care What Happens To You, If You Rip Yourself In Two, So Long As You Do Get Out.

Since Obscenity Is The Truth Of Our Passion Today, It Is The Only Stuff Of Art -- Or Almost The Only Stuff.

Now Go Away Then, And Leave Me Alone. I Don't Want Any More Of Your Meretricious Persiflage.

The Only True Aristocracy Is That Of Consciousness.

Whatever A Human Being Makes And Makes Live, It Lives Because Of The Life He Puts Into It.

There's Nothing Wrong With Sexual Feelings In Themselves, So Long As They Are Straightforward And Not Sneaking Or Sly. The Right Sort Of Sex Stimulus Is Invaluable To Human Daily Life. Without It The World Grows Grey.

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