Notes from a small island A weblog by Jonathan Ali |
Tuesday, August 19, 2003 "Mrs Morel had helped like a nurse. There was blood on her black skirt - Paul saw it was her working skirt, and her bursten working boots. Now she had nothing more to do, she stood in her small black bonnet, like an image, white and motionless, looking at her wounded son. Paul stood perfectly still for a moment or two, looking at his brother. He wished they were all dead, all the Morels. At that moment he learned that not death, but life, is fearful. We die several times during life, most of us. Paul died distinctly at that moment - as his mother, his father, his brother, all were tasting death." --From an extract of DH Lawrence's Paul Morel, an early draft of Sons and Lovers, previously unpublished and now available for the first time--at the bargain price of seventy pounds. posted by Jonathan | 3:49 PM 0 comments 0 Comments: |
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