"Lawrence, D. H - Lady Chatterley's Lover" - читать интересную книгу автора (Lawrence D. H)

And however one might sentimentalize it, this sex business was one of
the most ancient, sordid connexions and subjections. Poets who
glorified it were mostly men. Women had always known there was
something better, something higher. And now they knew it more
definitely than ever. The beautiful pure freedom of a woman was
infinitely more wonderful than any sexual love. The only unfortunate
thing was that men lagged so far behind women in the matter. They
insisted on the sex thing like dogs.

And a woman had to yield. A man was like a child with his appetites. A
woman had to yield him what he wanted, or like a child he would
probably turn nasty and flounce away and spoil what was a very pleasant
connexion. But a woman could yield to a man without yielding her inner,
free self. That the poets and talkers about sex did not seem to have
taken sufficiently into account. A woman could take a man without
really giving herself away. Certainly she could take him without giving
herself into his power. Rather she could use this sex thing to have
power over him. For she only had to hold herself back in sexual
intercourse, and let him finish and expend himself without herself
coming to the crisis and then she could prolong the connexion and
achieve her orgasm and her crisis while he was merely her tool.

Both sisters had had their love experience by the time the war came,
and they were hurried home. Neither was ever in love with a young man
unless he and she were verbally very near that is unless they were
profoundly interested, TALKING to one another. The amazing, the
profound, the unbelievable thrill there was in passionately talking to
some really clever young man by the hour, resuming day after day for
months...this they had never realized till it happened! The paradisal
promise Thou shalt have men to talk to!--had never been uttered. It
was fulfilled before they knew what a promise it was.

And if after the roused intimacy of these vivid and soul-enlightened
discussions the sex thing became more or less inevitable, then let it.
It marked the end of a chapter. It had a thrill of its own too a queer
vibrating thrill inside the body, a final spasm of self-assertion, like
the last word, exciting, and very like the row of asterisks that can be
put to show the end of a paragraph, and a break in the theme.

When the girls came home for the summer holidays of 1913, when Hilda
was twenty and Connie eighteen, their father could see plainly that
they had had the love experience.

L'AMOUR AVAIT POSSР PAR L╖, as somebody puts it. But he was a man of
experience himself, and let life take its course. As for the mot a
nervous invalid in the last few months of her life, she wanted her
girls to be 'free', and to 'fulfil themselves'. She herself had never
been able to be altogether herself it had been denied her. Heaven
knows why, for she was a woman who had her own income and her own way.
She blamed her husband. But as a matter of fact, it was some old