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Lawrence, D. H. (David Herbert), 1885-1930

"Women in Love"


They drifted through the wild, late afternoon, in a beautiful motion
that was smiling and transcendent. His mind was sweetly at ease, the
life flowed through him as from some new fountain, he was as if born
out of the cramp of a womb.
'Are you happy?' she asked him, in her strange, delighted way.
'Yes,' he said.
'So am I,' she cried in sudden ecstacy, putting her arm round him and
clutching him violently against her, as he steered the motor-car.
'Don't drive much more,' she said. 'I don't want you to be always doing
something.'
'No,' he said. 'We'll finish this little trip, and then we'll be free.'
'We will, my love, we will,' she cried in delight, kissing him as he
turned to her.
He drove on in a strange new wakefulness, the tension of his
consciousness broken. He seemed to be conscious all over, all his body
awake with a simple, glimmering awareness, as if he had just come
awake, like a thing that is born, like a bird when it comes out of an
egg, into a new universe.


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