Thursday, January 20, 2022

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

from St. Mawr by D. H. Lawrence:

Even St. Mawr felt himself strange, as it were naked and singled out, in this rough place. Like a jewel among stones, a pearl before swine, maybe. But the swine were no fools. They knew a pearl from a grain of maize, and a grain of maize from a pearl. And they knew what they wanted. When it was pearls, it was pearls; though chiefly it was maize. Which shows good sense. They could see St. Mawr's points. Only he needn’t draw the point too fine, or it would just not pierce the tough skin of this country.

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