I live in a silent world in the dimmed light

of an essential flame that is caught, meshed, and contravened.

I live a good deal by myself, to myself, reading,

passing on from day to day, and always thinking, trying

to lay hold on life, to grasp it in my

own understanding. My active living is suspended, but underneath, in

the darkness, something seems to be coming to pass. If

only I could break through the last integuments! Still I

have a strange prescience, an intimation of something yet to

come. I lay down my book and look about me.

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Paraphrases from the novel Women in Love by D.H. Lawrence.

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