Quotes About Emotion

Yes, I do believe in something. I believe in being warm-hearted. I believe especially in being warm-hearted in love, in fucking with a warm heart. I believe if men could fuck with warm hearts, and the women take it warm-heartedly, everything would come all right. It's all this cold-hearted fucking that is death and idiocy.

How she hated words, always coming between her and her life: they did the ravishing, if anything did: ready-made words and phrases, sucking all the live-sap out of living things.

She thought she loved, she thought she was full of love.

Recklessness is almost a man's revenge on his woman.

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.

But you don't fuck me cold-heartedly,' she protested. 'I don't want to fuck you at all.' Lady Chatterly's Lover

It's just love, she said cheerfully. whatever that may be, he replied.

How she loved to listen when he thought only the horse could hear.

They say the sea is cold, but the sea contains the hottest blood of all.

In every living thing there is the desire for love.

Art has two great functions. First, it provides an emotional experience. And then, if we have the courage of our own feelings, it becomes a mine of practical truth. We have had the feelings ad nauseam. But we've never dared dig the actual truth out of them, the truth that concerns us, whether it concerns our grandchildren or not.

For my part, life is so many things I don't care what it is. It's not my affair to sum it up. Just now it's a cup of tea. This morning it was wormwood and gall. Hand me the sugar.

Because I infinitely prefer the spontaneous spite to the concocted sugaries;

Quiero un amor que sea como un sueño, como dormir, como nacer de nuevo, vulnerable como un niño en el instante de llegar al mundo.

It hurt her most of all, this failure to love him

She drops her art if anything else catches her. Her contrariness prevents her taking it seriously - she must never be serious, she feels she might give herself away. And she won't give herself away - she's always on the defensive. That's what I can't stand about her type.

I am in love - and, my God, it is the greatest thing that can happen to a man. I tell you, find a woman you can fall in love with. Do it. Let yourself fall in love. If you have not done so already, you are wasting your life.

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.

Like a great bog humanity swamped her, and she sank in, weak at the knees, filled with repulsion and fear of every person she met.

It was as if she could scarcely stand the shock of physical love, even a passionate kiss, and then he was too shrinking and sensitive to give it.

Heart an' belly an' cock.

But I will have it. I will love — it is my birthright. I will love the man I marry — that is all I care about.

I am turned into a dream. I feel nothing, or I don't know what I feel. Yet it seems to me I am happy.

My great religion is a belief in the blood, the flesh, as being wiser than the intellect. We can grow wrong in our minds. But what our blood feels and believes, and says, is always true.