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

"Women in Love"

In her transport she lifted her face suddenly to him, and
he touched it with his lips. So cold, so fresh, so sea-clear her face
was, it was like kissing a flower that grows near the surf.
But he did not know the ecstasy of bliss in fore-knowledge that she
knew. To him, the wonder of this transit was overwhelming. He was
falling through a gulf of infinite darkness, like a meteorite plunging
across the chasm between the worlds. The world was torn in two, and he
was plunging like an unlit star through the ineffable rift. What was
beyond was not yet for him. He was overcome by the trajectory.
In a trance he lay enfolding Ursula round about. His face was against
her fine, fragile hair, he breathed its fragrance with the sea and the
profound night. And his soul was at peace; yielded, as he fell into the
unknown. This was the first time that an utter and absolute peace had
entered his heart, now, in this final transit out of life.
When there came some stir on the deck, they roused. They stood up.


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