Page 51 - lady-chatterlys-lover

their talking they could not do, without her silent presence.
She had an immense respect for thought...and these men, at
least, tried to think honestly. But somehow there was a cat,
and it wouldn’t jump. They all alike talked at something,
though what it was, for the life of her she couldn’t say. It was
something that Mick didn’t clear, either.
But then Mick wasn’t trying to do anything, but just get
through his life, and put as much across other people as they
tried to put across him. He was really anti-social, which was
what Clifford and his cronies had against him. Clifford and
his cronies were not anti-social; they were more or less bent
on saving mankind, or on instructing it, to say the least.
There was a gorgeous talk on Sunday evening, when the
conversation drifted again to love.
’Blest be the tie that binds Our hearts in kindred
something-or-other’—
said Tommy Dukes. ‘I’d like to know what the tie is...The
tie that binds us just now is mental friction on one anoth-
er. And, apart from that, there’s damned little tie between
us. We bust apart, and say spiteful things about one an-
other, like all the other damned intellectuals in the world.
Damned everybodies, as far as that goes, for they all do it.
Else we bust apart, and cover up the spiteful things we feel
against one another by saying false sugaries. It’s a curious
thing that the mental life seems to flourish with its roots
in spite, ineffable and fathomless spite. Always has been
so! Look at Socrates, in Plato, and his bunch round him!
The sheer spite of it all, just sheer joy in pulling somebody
else to bits...Protagoras, or whoever it was! And Alcibiades,

0 Lady Chatterly’s Lover