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D. H. (David Herbert) Lawrence
David Herbert Lawrence (1885-1930) was an English novelist, poet, essayist, and critic, known for his profound explorations of human emotions, sexuality, and modernity. His most famous works include "Sons and Lovers," "The Rainbow," and "Lady Chatterley's Lover," which challenged the conventions of his time with their candid depictions of intimate relationships and social issues. Despite facing significant censorship and controversy, Lawrence's literary contributions have had a lasting impact on 20th-century literature and thought.
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CHAPTER I. THE BLUE BALL There was a large, brilliant evening star in the early twilight, and underfoot the earth was half frozen. It was Christmas Eve. Also the War was over, and there was a sense of relief that was almost a new menace. A man felt the violence of the nightmare released now into the general air. Also there had been another wrangle among the men on the pit-bank that evening. Aaron...
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TEASE I WILL give you all my keys, You shall be my châtelaine,You shall enter as you please, As you please shall go again. When I hear you jingling through All the chambers of my soul,How I sit and laugh at you In your vain housekeeping rôle. Jealous of the smallest cover, Angry at the simplest door;Well, you anxious, inquisitive lover, Are you pleased with what's in store? You...
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GUARDS! A Review in Hyde Park 1913.The Crowd Watches. WHERE the trees rise like cliffs, proud and blue-tinted in the distance,Between the cliffs of the trees, on the grey- green parkRests a still line of soldiers, red motionless range of guardsSmouldering with darkened busbies beneath the bay- onets' slant rain. Colossal in nearness a blue police sits still on his horseGuarding the...
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England, My England He was working on the edge of the common, beyond the small brook that ran in the dip at the bottom of the garden, carrying the garden path in continuation from the plank bridge on to the common. He had cut the rough turf and bracken, leaving the grey, dryish soil bare. But he was worried because he could not get the path straight, there was a pleat between his brows. He had set up...
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FORWARD The present book is a continuation from "Psychoanalysis and the Unconscious." The generality of readers had better just leave it alone. The generality of critics likewise. I really don't want to convince anybody. It is quite in opposition to my whole nature. I don't intend my books for the generality of readers. I count it a mistake of our mistaken democracy, that every man...
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ARGUMENT After much struggling and loss in love and in the world of man, the protagonist throws in his lot with a woman who is already married. Together they go into another country, she perforce leaving her children behind. The conflict of love and hate goes on between the man and the woman, and between these two and the world around them, till it reaches some sort of conclusion, they transcend into...
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APPREHENSION AND all hours long, the town Roars like a beast in a caveThat is wounded thereAnd like to drown; While days rush, wave after waveOn its lair. An invisible woe unseals The flood, so it passes beyondAll bounds: the great old cityRecumbent roars as it feels The foamy paw of the pondReach from immensity. But all that it can do Now, as the tide rises,Is to listen and hear the...
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CHAPTER I THE EARLY MARRIED LIFE OF THE MORELS "THE BOTTOMS" succeeded to "Hell Row". Hell Row was a block of thatched, bulging cottages that stood by the brookside on Greenhill Lane. There lived the colliers who worked in the little gin-pits two fields away. The brook ran under the alder trees, scarcely soiled by these small mines, whose coal was drawn to the surface by donkeys that...
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CHAPTER I THE DECLINE OF MANCHESTER HOUSE Take a mining townlet like Woodhouse, with a population of ten thousand people, and three generations behind it. This space of three generations argues a certain well-established society. The old "County" has fled from the sight of so much disembowelled coal, to flourish on mineral rights in regions still idyllic. Remains one great and inaccessible...
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They had marched more than thirty kilometres since dawn, along the white, hot road where occasional thickets of trees threw a moment of shade, then out into the glare again. On either hand, the valley, wide and shallow, glittered with heat; dark green patches of rye, pale young corn, fallow and meadow and black pine woods spread in a dull, hot diagram under a glistening sky. But right in front the...
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