Literary Quotations
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LADY CHATTERLEY'S LOVER

by: D.H. Lawrence


There is no smooth road into the future: but we go round, or scramble over the obstacles.

--Chapter One

We've got to live, no matter how many skies have fallen.

--Chapter One

A man was like a child with his appetites. A woman had to yield him what he wanted, or like a child he would probably turn nasty and flounce away and spoil what was a very pleasant connection.

--Chapter One

The bitch-goddess, as she is called, of Success, roamed, snarling and protective, round the half-humble, half-defiant Michaelis' heels, and intimidated Clifford completely: for he wanted to prostitute himself to the bitch-goddess Success also, if only she would have him.

--Chapter Three

Money is a sort of instinct. It's a sort of property of nature in a man 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!

--Chapter Three

The bitch-goddess, Success, was trailed by thousands of gasping dogs with lolling tongues.

--Chapter Three

The world is supposed to be full of possibilities, but they narrow down to pretty few in most personal experience. 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.

--Chapter Four

Sex is just another form of talk, where you act the words instead of saying them.

--Chapter Four

When the emotional soul receives a wounding shock, which does not kill the body, the soul seems to recover as the body recovers. But this is only appearance. It is really only the mechanism of the reassumed habit. Slowly, slowly the wound to the soul begins to make itself felt, like a bruise, which only slowly deepens its terrible ache, till it fills all the psyche.

--Chapter Five

The only reality was nothingness, and over it a hypocrisy of words.

--Chapter Five

Money is the seal and stamp of success.

--Chapter Five

Nothingness! To accept the great nothingness of life seemed to be the one end of living. All the many busy and important little things that make up the grand sum-total of nothingness!

--Chapter Five

Happiness was a term of hypocrisy used to bluff other people.

--Chapter Six

Sex and a cocktail: they both lasted about as long, had the same effect, and amounted to about the same thing.

--Chapter Six

What a frail, easily hurt, rather pathetic thing a human body is, naked; somehow a little unfinished, incomplete!

--Chapter Seven

A woman needn't be dragged down by her functions.

--Chapter Seven

Conscience was chiefly fear of society, or fear of oneself.

--Chapter Ten

When passion is dead, or absent, then the magnificent throb of beauty is incomprehensible and even a little despicable.

--Chapter Ten

God alone knows where the future lies.

--Chapter Eleven

To my experience the mass of women are like this: most of them want a man, but don't want the sex, but they put up with it, as part of the bargain.

--Chapter Fourteen

What's that as flies without wings, your ladyship? Time! Time!

--Chapter Fifteen

Whatever God there is is slowly eliminating the guts and alimentary system from the human being, to evolve a higher, more spiritual being.

--Chapter Sixteen

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!

--Chapter Seventeen

Only youth has a taste of immortality.

--Chapter Seventeen

It seems to me absolutely true, that our world, which appears to us the surface of all things, is really the bottom of a deep ocean: all our trees are submarine growths, and we are weird, scaly-clad submarine fauna, feeding ourselves on offal like shrimps. Only occasionally the soul rises gasping through the fathomless fathoms under which we live, far up to the surface of the ether, where there is true air.

--Chapter Seventeen

Sex is really only touch, the closest of all touch. And it's touch we're afraid of.

--Chapter Eighteen

Patience! Patience! The world is a vast and ghastly intricacy of mechanism, and one has to be very wary, not to get mangled by it.

--Chapter Eighteen

Money poisons you when you've got it, and starves you when you haven't.

--Chapter Nineteen