Page 321 - lady-chatterlys-lover

There’s a difference. Because, as he said, the Tommies are
getting just as priggish and half-balled and narrow-gutted.
It’s the fate of mankind, to go that way.’
’The common people too, the working people?’
’All the lot. Their spunk is gone dead. Motor-cars and
cinemas and aeroplanes suck that last bit out of them. I
tell you, every generation breeds a more rabbity generation,
with india rubber tubing for guts and tin legs and tin faces.
Tin people! It’s all a steady sort of bolshevism just killing off
the human thing, and worshipping the mechanical thing.
Money, money, money! All the modern lot get their real
kick out of killing the old human feeling out of man, mak-
ing mincemeat of the old Adam and the old Eve. They’re all
alike. The world is all alike: kill off the human reality, a quid
for every foreskin, two quid for each pair of balls. What is
cunt but machine-fucking!—It’s all alike. Pay ‘em money to
cut off the world’s cock. Pay money, money, money to them
that will take spunk out of mankind, and leave ‘em all little
twiddling machines.’
He sat there in the hut, his face pulled to mocking irony.
Yet even then, he had one ear set backwards, listening to the
storm over the wood. It made him feel so alone.
’But won’t it ever come to an end?’ she said.
’Ay, it will. It’ll achieve its own salvation. When the last
real man is killed, and they’re ALL tame: white, black, yel-
low, all colours of tame ones: then they’ll ALL be insane.
Because the root of sanity is in the balls. Then they’ll all
be INSANE, and they’ll make their grand ~auto da fe. You
know AUTO DA FE means act of faith? Ay, well, they’ll

0 Lady Chatterly’s Lover