D. H. Lawrence Quotes

But let them sleep, Lord, and me mourn a space.

Despair is part of love.

I still love you. And sometimes, my friend, the love that I have, and can't give to you, crushes the breath from my chest. Sometimes, even now, my heart is drowning in a sorrow that has no stars without you, and no laughter, and no sleep.

O heart! O heart! if she'd but turn her head You'd know the folly of being comforted.

Love's lengthways splits the heart in two - the heart where you are, the heart where you want to be.

The truth is simple, you do not die from love. You only wish you did.

Why is the measure of love loss?

Lost in loneliness and pain. Black and unendurable, Thinking of you with every Corpuscle of my flesh, in Every instant of night And day.

Love was like rain: it turned into ice, or it disappeared. Now you saw it, now you couldn't find it no matter how hard you might search. Love evaporated; obsession was realer; it hurt, like a pin in your bottom, a stone in your shoe. It didn't go away in the blink of an eye. A morning phone call filled with regret. A letter that said, Dear you, good-bye from me. Obsession tasted like something familiar. Something you'd known your whole life. It settled and lurked; it stayed with you.

When someone you love dies you pay for the sin of outliving her with a thousand piercing regrets.

When a person that one loves is in the world and alive and well, and pleased to be in the world, then to miss them is only a new flavor, a salt sharpness in experience. It is when the beloved is unhappy or maimed or troubled that one misses with pain.

'T is sweeter for thee despairing Than aught in the world beside,-Jessy!

Her coming was my hope each day, Her parting was my pain; The chance that did her steps delay Was ice in every vein.

Missing rubs the soul raw.

I am tired, Beloved, of chafing my heart against the want of you; of squeezing it into little inkdrops, And posting it.

Yearning is inseparable from love, and since once doesn't have the object of love immediately, one has not fallen in the embrace of the beloved immediately, they are suffering. That's how they are related.

i felt her absence. it was like waking up one day with no teeth in your mouth. you wouldn't need to run to the mirror to know they were gone

Grief is the price we pay for love.

Getting through the nights is the toughest part. Being alone. Not having her there to talk to.

Love is the hardest habit to break, and the most difficult to satisfy.

When we lose one we love, our bitterest tears are called forth by the memory of hours when we loved not enough.

Our hours in love have wings; in absence, crutches.

We all have that burning question about what happens if we lose somebody we love, especially if we lose them tragically. We wonder what fear was going on, we wonder if we could have reached out and touched them, held their hand, looked in their eyes, been there.

Love is so short, forgetting is so long.

Since love first made the breast an instrument Of fierce lamenting, by its flame my heart Was molten to a mirror, like a rose I pluck my breast apart, that I may hang This mirror in your sight.