Sons and Lovers

“You’ll find you’re al­ways tum­bling over the things you’ve put be­hind you,” he said.

Miriam was im­pa­tient of men. It took so little to amuse them—even Paul. She thought it an­om­al­ous in him that he could be so thor­oughly ab­sorbed in a tri­vi­al­ity.

“You’re al­ways beg­ging things to love you,” he said, “as if you were a beg­gar for love.

“You don’t want to love—your eternal and ab­nor­mal crav­ing is to be loved. You aren’t pos­it­ive, you’re neg­at­ive. You ab­sorb, ab­sorb, as if you must fill your­self up with love, be­cause you’ve got a short­age some­where.”

“You’re al­ways beg­ging things to love you,” he said, “as if you were a beg­gar for love.

pro­spect of her life made her feel as if she were bur­ied alive.

, hav­ing an end house, she en­joyed a kind of ar­is­to­cracy among the other wo­men of the “between”

the pro­spect of her life made her feel as if she were bur­ied alive.

What have I to do with all this? Even the child I am go­ing to have! It doesn’t seem as if I were taken into ac­coun

“A man will part with any­thing so long as he’s drunk, and you’re drunk along with him,”