She did not look her best: so thin, so large-nosed, with that pink-and-white checked duster tied round her head. She felt her disadvantage. But she had had a good deal of suffering and sorrow, she did not mind any more.
David Herbert Lawrence
If a woman hasn't got a tiny streak of harlot in her, she's a dry stick as a rule.
The great mass of humanity should never learn to read or write.
And woman is the same as horses: two wills act in opposition inside her. With one will she wants to subject herself utterly. With the other she wants to bolt, and pitch her rider to perdition.
And she had discovered him, discovered in him a rare potentiality, discovered his loneliness.
We ought to dance with rapture that we might be alive - and part of the living incarnate cosmos.