Page 447 - lady-chatterlys-lover

Cliffords and Berthas, colliery companies and governments
and the money-mass of people all notwithstanding.
That’s why I don’t like to start thinking about you ac-
tually. It only tortures me, and does you no good. I don’t
want you to be away from me. But if I start fretting it wastes
something. Patience, always patience. This is my fortieth
winter. And I can’t help all the winters that have been. But
this winter I’ll stick to my little Pentecost flame, and have
some peace. And I won’t let the breath of people blow it out.
I believe in a higher mystery, that doesn’t let even the cro-
cus be blown out. And if you’re in Scotland and I’m in the
Midlands, and I can’t put my arms round you, and wrap my
legs round you, yet I’ve got something of you. My soul softly
Naps in the little Pentecost flame with you, like the peace of
fucking. We fucked a flame into being. Even the flowers are
fucked into being between the sun and the earth. But it’s a
delicate thing, and takes patience and the long pause.
So I love chastity now, because it is the peace that comes
of fucking. I love being chaste now. I love it as snowdrops
love the snow. I love this chastity, which is the pause of
peace of our fucking, between us now like a snowdrop of
forked white fire. And when the real spring comes, when
the drawing together comes, then we can fuck the little
flame brilliant and yellow, brilliant. But not now, not yet!
Now is the time to be chaste, it is so good to be chaste, like
a river of cool water in my soul. I love the chastity now that
it flows between us. It is like fresh water and rain. How can
men want wearisomely to philander. What a misery to be
like Don Juan, and impotent ever to fuck oneself into peace,

Lady Chatterly’s Lover