Sunday, January 23, 2022

the last book I ever read (D. H. Lawrence's St. Mawr, excerpt fourteen)

from St. Mawr by D. H. Lawrence:

Yet it was the place Lou wanted. In an instant, her heart sprang to it. The instant the car stopped, and he saw the two cabins inside the rickety fence, the rather broken corral beyond, and, behind all, tall, blue balsam pines, the round hills, the solid uprise of the mountain flank: and, getting down, she looked across the purple and gold of the clearing, downwards at the ring of pine-trees standing so still, so crude and untamable, the motionless desert beyond the bristles of the pine crests, a thousand feet below: and, beyond the desert, blue mountains, and far, far-off blue mountains in Arizona: “This is the place,” she said to herself.

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