«Любовник леди Чаттерлей / Lady Chatterley's Lover» kitabından alıntılar, sayfa 32
Но не все можно опорочить. Банку сардин, например.
А вообще-то молодость — ужасная пора. Чувствуешь себя старой, как Мафусаил, но что-то внутри щекочет, лишает покоя. Что за жизнь ей выпала! И никаких надежд!
Его раздосадовало вторжение: ведь уединение он ценил превыше всего — единственное и последнее, что осталось у него от свободы.
Возвращаются времена года, но не возвращается день или сладкое прикосновение вечера, или утра.
На логику иногда нельзя возразить, так она нелогична!
It is not who begets us, that matters, but where fate places us. Place any child among the ruling classes, and he will grow up, to his own extent, a ruler. Put king's and Dukes' among the masses, and they'll be little plebeians, mass products.
The masses were always the same, and will always be the same. Nero's slaves were extremely little different from our colliers or the Ford motor-car workmen. I mean Nero's mine slaves and his field slaves. It is the masses: they are the unchangeable. An individual may emerge from the masses. But the emergence doesn't alter the mass. The masses are unalterable. It is one of the most momentous facts of social science.
What does it matter? It's the life-long companionship that matters. It's the living together from day to day, not the sleeping together once or twice. You and I are married, no matter what happens to us. We have the habit of each other. And habit, to my thinking, is more vital than any occasional excitement.
We don't want to follow a man into the w.c., so why should we want to follow him into bed with a woman? And therein lies the problem.
Married people like you and Julia have labels on you, like travellers' trunks. Julia is labelled MRS Arnold B. Hammond - just like a trunk on the railway that belongs to somebody.
