Sons and Lovers

This coming child was too much for her. If it were not for William and Annie, she was sick of it, the struggle with poverty and ugliness and meanness.

As Mrs. Morel saw him slink quickly through the inner doorway, holding his bundle, she laughed to herself: but her heart was bitter, because she had loved him.

"But if you're a MAN?" she had cried. "Being a man isn't everything," he replied, frowning with puzzled helplessness.

With Mrs. Morel it was one of those still moments when the small frets vanish, and the beauty of things stands out, and she had the peace and the strength to see herself.

love should give a sense of freedom, not of prison.

There was a feeling of misery over all the house. The children breathed the air that was poisoned, and they felt dreary.

She was puritan, like her father, high-minded, and really stern. Therefore the dusky, golden softness of this man's sensuous flame of life, that flowed off his flesh like the flame from a candle, not baffled and gripped into incandescence by thought and spirit as her life was, seemed to her something wonderful, beyond her.

It doesn't seem as if I were taken into account."

What he felt just at the minute, that was all to him. He could not abide by anything. There was nothing at the back of all his show.