Sons and Lovers is D. H. Lawrence's most widely read novel and one of the great works of twentieth-century literature. In 1913, at the time of its first publication, Lawrence reluctantly agreed to the removal of no fewer than eighty passages which until now have never been restored. This edition presents the novel in the form that Lawrence himself wanted - about one tenth longer than the incomplete and expurgated version that has hitherto been available. The introduction of this edition relates much new information about Lawrence's two-year struggle to write his autobiographical masterpiece....
Sons and Lovers is D. H. Lawrence's most widely read novel and one of the great works of twentieth-century literature. In 1913, at the time of its fir...
Paul Morel is a young artist, and the second son of Gertrude Morel. When Paul falls in love with a local girl, Miriam, his mother disapproves, and Paul is forced to choose between them. "Sons and Lovers" is an intense examination of family, class, and love, set in a small mining town in the early 1900's.
Paul Morel is a young artist, and the second son of Gertrude Morel. When Paul falls in love with a local girl, Miriam, his mother disapproves, and Pau...
The Crowd Watches. WHERE the trees rise like cliffs, proud and blue-tinted in the distance, Between the cliffs of the trees, on the grey- green park Rests a still line of soldiers, red motionless range of guards Smouldering with darkened busbies beneath the bay- onets' slant rain.
The Crowd Watches. WHERE the trees rise like cliffs, proud and blue-tinted in the distance, Between the cliffs of the trees, on the grey- green park R...
You know what it is to be born alone, Baby tortoise The first day to heave your feet little by little from the shell, Not yet awake, And remain lapsed on earth, Not quite alive.
You know what it is to be born alone, Baby tortoise The first day to heave your feet little by little from the shell, Not yet awake, And remain lapse...
I stood watching the shadowy fish slide through the gloom of the mill-pond. They were grey, descendants of the silvery things that had darted away from the monks, in the young days when the valley was lusty. The whole place was gathered in the musing of old age. The thick-piled trees on the far shore were too dark and sober to dally with the sun; the weeds stood crowded and motionless. Not even a little wind flickered the willows of the islets. The water lay softly, intensely still. Only the thin stream falling through the mill-race murmured to itself of the tumult of life which had once...
I stood watching the shadowy fish slide through the gloom of the mill-pond. They were grey, descendants of the silvery things that had darted away fro...