Lady Chatterley's Lover
Chapter One
Ours is essentially a tragic age, so we refuse to take it tragically. The
cataclysm has happened, we are among the ruins, we start to build up new little
habits, to have new little hopes. It is rather hard work: there is now no smooth
road into the future: but we go round, or scramble over the obstacles.
We’ve got to live, no matter how many skies have fallen.
This was more or less Constance Chatterley’s position. The war had brought
the roof down over her head. And she had realized that one must live and learn.
She married Clifford Chatterley in 1917, when he was home for a month on leave.
They had a month’s honeymoon. Then he went back to Flanders: to be shipped
over to England again six months later, more or less in bits. Constance, his
wife, was then twenty-three years old, and he was twenty-nine.
His hold on life was marvellous. He didn’t die, and the bits seemed to
grow together again. For two years he remained in the doctor’s hands. Then
he was pronounced a cure, and could return to life again, with the lower half of
his body, from ... read full excerpt from: Lady Chatterley's Lover ebook
