Conceit
D. H. Lawrence
It is conceit that kills us and makes us cowards instead of gods. Under the great Command: Know thy self, and that thou art mortal! we have become fatally self-conscious, fatally self-important, fatally entangled in the Laocon coils of our conceit. Now we have to admit we can't know ourselves, we can only know about ourselves. And I am not interested to know about myself any more, I only entangle myself in the knowing. Now let me be myself, now let me be myself, and flicker forth, now let me be myself, in the being, one of the gods.
Next 10 Poems
- D. H. Lawrence : Conundrums
- D. H. Lawrence : Craving For Spring
- D. H. Lawrence : Cruelty And Love
- D. H. Lawrence : Debacle
- D. H. Lawrence : Discipline
- D. H. Lawrence : Discord In Childhood
- D. H. Lawrence : Dissolute
- D. H. Lawrence : Dolor Of Autumn
- D. H. Lawrence : Dreams
- D. H. Lawrence : Dreams Nascent
Previous 10 Poems
- D. H. Lawrence : Coming Awake
- D. H. Lawrence : Butterfly
- D. H. Lawrence : Brother And Sister
- D. H. Lawrence : Brooding Grief
- D. H. Lawrence : Blue
- D. H. Lawrence : Bitterness Of Death
- D. H. Lawrence : Birdcage Walk
- D. H. Lawrence : Belief
- D. H. Lawrence : Beautiful Old Age
- D. H. Lawrence : Bavarian Gentians
