T. E. Lawrence Quotes
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The greatest commander is he whose intuitions most nearly happen.
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If I could talk it like Dahoum, you would never be tired of listening to me.
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The Beduin of the desert, born and grown up in it, had embraced with all his sour this nakedness too harsh for volunteers, for the reason, felt but inarticulate, that there he found himself indubitably free.
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It seems to me that the conquest of the air is the only major task for our generation.
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I could write for hours on the lustfulness of moving Swiftly.
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The beginning and ending of the secret of handling Arabs is unremitting study of them.
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As long as the Arabs fight tribe against tribe, so long will they be a little people, a silly people, greedy, barbarous and cruel.
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This creed of the desert seemed inexpressible in words, and indeed in thought.
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Many men would take the death-sentence without a whimper, to escape the life-sentence which fate carries in her other hand.
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Mankind has had ten-thousand years of experience at fighting and if we must fight, we have no excuse for not fighting well.
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I haven't got a heart: only the former site of one, with a monument there to say that it has been removed and the area it occupied turned into a public garden, in pursuance of the slum-clearance scheme.
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Misery, anger, indignation, discomfort-those conditions produce literature. Contentment-never. So there you are.
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They taught me that no man could be their leader except he ate the ranks' food, wore their clothes, lived level with them, and yet appeared better in himself.
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Dream your dreams with open eyes and make them come true.
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Isn't it true that the fault of birth rests somewhat on the child? I believe it's we who led our parents on to bear us, and it's our unborn children who make our flesh itch.
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We had been hopelessly labouring to plough waste lands; to make nationality grow in a place full of the certainty of God… Among the tribes our creed could be only like the desert grass – a beautiful swift seeming of spring; which, after a day’s heat, fell dusty.
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It seemed that rebellion must have an unassailable base, something guarded not merely from attack, but from the fear of it: such a base as we had in the Red Sea Parts, the desert, or in the minds of the men we converted to our creed.
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The desert was held in a crazed communism by which Nature and the elements were for the free use of every known friendly person for his own purposes and no more.
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In peace-armies discipline meant the hunt, not of an average but of an absolute; the hundred per cent standard in which the ninety-nine were played down to the level of the weakest man on parade.... The deeper the discipline, the lower was the individual excellence; also the more sure the performance.
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Do not try and do too much with your own hands. Better the Arabs do it tolerably than you do it perfectly. It is their war, and you are to help them, not win it for them.
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Suppose we were (as we might be) an influence, an idea, a thing intangible, invulnerable, without front or back, drifting about like a gas? Armies were like plants, immobile, firm-rooted, nourished through long stems to the head. We might be a vapour, blowing where we listed Ours should be a war of detachment. We were to contain the enemy by the silent threat of a vast, unknown desert
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I loved you, so I drew these tides of men into my hands/and wrote my will across the sky in stars
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To make war upon rebellion is messy and slow, like eating soup with a knife.
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I prefer lies to truth, especially when the lies are about me.
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You wonder what I am doing? Well, so do I, in truth. Days seem to dawn, suns to shine, evenings to follow, and then I sleep. What I have done, what I am doing, what I am going to do, puzzle and bewilder me. Have you ever been a leaf and fallen from your tree in autumn and been really puzzled about it? That’s the feeling.
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I've been and am absurdly over-estimated. There are no supermen and I'm quite ordinary, and will say so whatever the artistic results. In that point I'm one of the few people who tell the truth about myself.
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I wrote my will across the sky, in stars
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There is an ideal standard somewhere and only that matters and I cannot find it. Hence the aimlessness.
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I had dropped one form and not taken on the other, and was become like Mohammed's coffin in our legend, with a resultant feeling of intense loneliness in life, and a contempt, not for other men, but for all they do.
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Yet when we achieved, and the new world dawned, the old men came out again and took our victory to remake it in the likeness of the former world they knew. Youth could win, but had not learned to keep: and was pitiably weak against age. We stammered that we had worked for a new heaven and a new earth, and they thanked us kindly and made their peace.
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