action

American

architecture

beard

built environment

California

city

English Catholic

fixity

flower

France

Herman Melville

inconsistency

Italy

James Joyce

language

literature

London

love

maleness

man (human)

masturbation

Mexico

money

moon

myth

nostalgia

Nottingham

novel

November

Paris

passion

phallus

pornography

pride

psychoanalysis

pyramid

romance

Russia

self

self-pity

sentimentality

spring

tenderness

time

Walt Whitman

whisky

William Shakespeare

nationality

British

occupation / innovator as

novelist

painter

playwright

poet

essayist

literary critic

translator

intellectual movement

Modernist literature

screenwriter

cause of death

natural causes

 should come out of an achieved stillness and not a mere rushing on.

One's action ought to come out of an achieved stillness: not to be a mere rushing on.

is a form of supremely delicate awareness. . . Meaning at-oneness, the state of being at one with the object.

Art is a form of supremely delicate awareness. . . meaning at-oneness, the state of being at one with the object. (D. H. Lawrence)

is tasked to reveal the relation between man and his environment.

The business of art is to reveal the relation between man and his environment.

is more often guilty of swamping one than carrying one out onto the big ocean of life.

Towns oftener swamp one than carry one out onto the big ocean of life.D. H. Lawrence

is just a Protestant, protesting against Protestantism.

is immortal. The Pyramids of Egypt will not last a moment compared to the daisy.

The Pyramids of Egypt will not last a moment compared to the daisy.

is tender like cooked macaroni, yards and yards of soft tenderness ravelled round everything.

Italy is so tender - like cooked macaroni- yards and yards of soft tenderness ravelled round everything.

is like a soul, so if one learns a new language, one gets a new soul.

is a toil and a snare, a curse that bites deep.

Literature is a toil and a snare, a curse that bites deep.

is our madness, our vast collective madness.

Money is our madness, our vast collective madness.

is a little feather fluttering far down the gulf.

The sun was gone now... the curled moon was like a little feather Fluttering far down the gulf.

 pulls the tides, controls menstrual periods, and touches the lunatics and when we describe it as dead, we are describing the deadness in ourselves.

not the mere dead lump of the astronomist. When we describe the moon as dead, we are describing the deadness in ourselves. When we find space so hideously void, we are describing our own unbearable emptiness.

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.

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. D.H. Lawrence

is a festive town, a thin crust of gilded, polished joy, such that it matters little if hell's just beneath.

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

is one of the saddest towns: Weary of its now-mechanical sensuality, weary of the tension of money, money, money, weary even of resentment and conceit, just weary to death, and still not sufficiently Americanized or londonized to hide the weariness under a mechanical jig-jig-jig.

Paris was sad. One of the saddest towns: weary of its now-mechanical sensuality, weary of the tension of money, money, money, weary even of resentment and conceit, just weary to death, and still not sufficiently Americanized or Londonized to hide the weariness under a mechanical jig-jig-jig! D. H. Lawrence

is a thing for which the only pure, beautiful conclusion available to it is death.

Death is the only pure, beautiful conclusion of a great passion. D.H. Lawrence

is guilty of shutting sexuality up in a bizarre sort of bourgeois box that makes of it a 'dirty little secret', a private theater rather than the fantastic factory of nature and production.

D.H. Lawrence had the impression that psychoanalysis was shutting sexuality up in a bizarre sort of box painted with bourgeois motifs, in a kind of rather repugnant artificial triangle, thereby stifling the whole of sexuality as a production of desire so as to recast it along entirely different lines, making of it a 'dirty little secret', a dirty little family secret, a private theater rather than the fantastic factory of nature and production Gilles Deleuze

is an object that will not last a moment compared to the daisy.

is never fully independent or fully dependent --- every man has a mob self and an individual self, in varying proportions.

Every man has a mob self and an individual self, in varying proportions.

is cyclical, not linear. The Pyramids of Egypt will not last a moment compared to the daisy.

D.H. LawrenceThinkers

D.H. Lawrence