Любовник леди Чаттерлей

           They’reasadlot,adeadenedlotofmen:deadtotheirwomen,deadtolife.Theyoungonesscootaboutonmotor-bikeswithgirls,andjazzwhentheygetachance,Butthey’reverydead.Anditneedsmoney.Moneypoisonsyouwhenyou’vegotit,andstarvesyouwhenyouhaven’t.

           I’msureyou’resickofallthis.ButIdon’twanttoharponmyself,andI’venothinghappeningtome.Idon’tliketothinktoomuchaboutyou,inmyhead,thatonlymakesamessofusboth.But,ofcourse,whatIlivefornowisforyouandmetolivetogether.I’mfrightened,really.Ifeelthedevilintheair,andhe’lltrytogetus.Ornotthedevil,Mammon:whichIthink,afterall,isonlythemass-willofpeople,wantingmoneyandhatinglife.Anyhow,Ifeelgreatgraspingwhitehandsintheair,wantingtogetholdofthethroatofanybodywhotriestolive,tolivebeyondmoney,andsqueezethelifeout.There’sabadtimecoming.There’sabadtimecoming,boys,there’sabadtimecoming!Ifthingsgoonastheyare,there’snothingliesinthefuturebutdeathanddestruction,fortheseindustrialmasses.Ifeelmyinsideturntowatersometimes,andthereyouare,goingtohaveachildbyme.Butnevermind.Allthebadtimesthateverhavebeen,haven’tbeenabletoblowthecrocusout:noteventheloveofwomen.Sotheywon’tbeabletoblowoutmywantingyou,northelittleglowthereisbetweenyouandme.We’llbetogethernextyear.AndthoughI’mfrightened,Ibelieveinyourbeingwithme.Amanhastofendandfettleforthebest,andthentrustinsomethingbeyondhimself.