You can't insure against the future, except by really believing in the best bit of you, and in the power beyond it.
It was the talk that mattered supremely: the impassioned exchange of talk. Love was only a minor accompaniment.
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.
But you don't fuck me cold-heartedly,' she protested. 'I don't want to fuck you at all.' Lady Chatterly's Lover
And Clifford the same. All that talk! All that writing! All that wild struggling to push himself forwards! It was just insanity. And it was getting worse, really maniacal. Connie felt washed-out with fear. But at least, Clifford was shifting his grip...
It's no good trying to get rid of your own aloneness. You've got to stick to it all your life. Only at times, at times, the gap will be filled in. At times! But you have to wait for the times. Accept your own aloneness and stick to it, all your life....
A woman has to live her life, or live to repent not having lived it.
Perhaps only people who are capable of real togetherness have that look of being alone in the universe. The others have a certain stickiness, they stick to the mass.
All the great words, it seemed to Connie were cancelled, for her generation: love, joy, happiness, home, mother, father, husband, all these great, dynamic words were half dead now and dying from day to day.
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 childr...
If only you could tell them that living and spending isn't the same thing.
We fucked a flame into being
She was always waiting, it seemed to be her forte.
Sex and a cocktail: they both lasted about as long, had the same effect, and amounted to about the same thing.
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.
