Mrs Morel Quotes

“Not feeling him so much part of herself, but merely part of her circumstances.”
― D.H. Lawrence, Sons and Lovers

“He danced well, as if it were natural and joyous in him to dance... Gertrude herself was rather contemptuous of dancing: she had not the slightest inclination towards that accomplishment, and had never learned even a Roger de Coverley... Therefore the dusky, golden softness of this man's sensuous flame of life, that flowed from off his flesh like the flame from a candle, not baffled and gripped into incandescence by thought and spirit as her life was, seemed to her something wonderful, beyond her.
He came and bowed above her. A warmth radiated through her as if she had drunk wine.
"Now do come and have this one wi' me," he said, caressively. "It's easy, you know. I'm pining to see you dance."
She had told him before she could not dance. She glanced at his humility, and smiled. Her smile was very beautiful. It moved the man so that he forgot everything.
"No, I won't dance," she said softly. Her words came clean and ringing.
Not knowing what he was doing - he often did the right thing, by instinct - he sat beside her, inclining reverentially.
"But you mustn't miss your dance," she reproved.
"Nay, I don't want to dance that - it's not one as I care about."
"Yet you invited me to it."
He laughed very heartily at this.
"I never thought o' that. Tha'rt not long in taking the curl out of me."
It was her turn to laugh quickly.
"You don't look as if you'd come much uncurled," she said.
"I'm a pig's tail, I curl because I canna help it," he laughed - rather boisterously.”
― D.H. Lawrence, Sons and Lovers

“She could not be content with the little he might be, she would have him the much that he ought to be. So, in seeking to make him nobler than he could be, she destroyed him.”
― D.H. Lawrence

“She's had no love."
"No! - Well, you must make up to her.”
― D.H. Lawrence, Sons and Lovers

“She went indoors, wondering if things were never going to alter. She was beginning by now to realise that they would not. She seemed so far away from her girlhood, she wondered if it were the same person walking heavily up the back garden at the Bottoms, as had run so lightly on breakwater at Sheerness, ten years before.
"What have I to do with it!" she said to herself. "What have I to do with all this. Even the child I am going to have! It doesn't seem as if I were taken into account."
Sometimes life takes hold of one, carries the body along, accomplishes one's history, and yet is not real, but leaves one's self as it were slurred over.
"I wait," Mrs Morel said to herself. "I wait, and what I wait for can never come.”
― D.H. Lawrence, Sons and Lovers

“When she was twenty three years old she met, at a christmas party, a young man from the Erewash Valley. Morel was then twenty-seven years old. He was well-set-up, erect and very smart. He had wavy, black hair that shone again, and a vigorous black beard that had never been shaved. His cheeks were ruddy, and his red moist mouth was noticeable because he laughed so often and so heartily. He had that rare thing, a rich, ringing laugh. Gertrude Coppard had watched him fascinated. He was so full of colour and animation, his voice ran so easily into comic grotesque, he was so ready and so pleasant with everybody... Walter Morel seemed melted away before her. She was to the miner that thing of mystery and fascination, a lady.”
― D.H. Lawrence, D.H. Lawrence

“William was only one year old, and his mother was proud of him, he was so pretty... He was a joy to her, the twining wisps of hair clustering round his head. Mrs Morel lay listening, one Sunday morning, to the chatter of the two. Then she dozed off. When she came downstairs... seated in his armchair, against the chimney piece, sat Morel, rather timid: and standing between his legs, the child - cropped like a sheep, with such an odd round poll - looking wondering at her: and on a newspaper spread out upon the hearth rug, a myriad of crescent-shaped curls, like the petals of a marigold scattered in the reddening firelight.
Mrs Morel stood still. It was her first baby. She went very white, and was unable to speak.
"What dost think on 'im?" Morel laughed uneasily.
She gripped her two fists, lifted them, and came forward. Morel shrank back...
Her lip trembled, her face broke, and, snatching up the child, she buried her face in his shoulder and cried painfully. She was one of those women who cannot cry: whom it hurts as it hurts a man. It was like the ripping something out of her, her sobbing...
She went about her work with closed mouth and very quiet... She spoke to him civilly, and never alluded to what he had done. But he felt something final had happened.
...But she knew, and Morel knew, that that act had caused something momentous to take place in her soul. She remembered that scene all her life, as one in which she had suffered the most intensely.
This act of masculine clumsiness was a spear through the side of her love for Morel.”
― D.H. Lawrence, Sons and Lovers

“He went straight to the sink where his wife was washing up.
"What, are thee there!" he said boisterously. "Sluther off an' let me wesh my-sen."
"You may wait till I've finished," said his wife.
"Oh mun I? - An' what if I shonna?"
This good-humoured threat amused Mrs Morel.
"Then you can go and wash yourself in the soft water tub."...
With which he stood watching her a moment, then went away to wait for her.”
― D.H. Lawrence, Sons and Lovers

“Mrs Morel was happy, bullying her clergyman over his sermons, sitting at tea with a gentleman, who passed her the bread and butter, who waited for her to begin.”
― D.H. Lawrence, Sons and Lovers

“She had a curious, receptive mind, which found much pleasure and amusement in listening to other folk. She was clever in leading folk on to talk. She loved ideas, and was considered very intellectual. What she liked most of all was an argument on religion or philosophy or politics, with some educated man. This she did not often enjoy. So she always had people tell her about themselves, finding her pleasure so.”
― D.H. Lawrence, Sons and Lovers

“I've brought thee a sup o' tea, lass," he said.
"Well you needn't, for you know I don't like it," she replied.
"Drink it up, it'll pop thee off to sleep again."
She accepted the tea. It pleased him to see her take it and sip it.
"I'll back my life there's no sugar in," she said.
"Yi - there's one big un," he replied, injured.
"It's a wonder," she said sipping again.
She had a winsome face when her hair was loose. He loved her to grumble at him in this manner.”
― D.H. Lawrence, Sons and Lovers

“Later, when the time for the baby grew nearer, he would bustle round in his slovenly fashion, poking out the ashes, rubbing the fire-place, sweeping the house before he went to work. Then, feeling very self-righteous, he went upstairs.
"Now I'n cleaned up for thee: that's no 'casions ter stir a peg all day, but sit and read thy books."
Which made her laugh, in spite of her indignation.
"And the dinner cooks itself?" she answered.
"Eh, I know nowt about th' dinner."
"You'd know if there weren't any."
"Ay, 'appen so," he answered, departing.”
― D.H. Lawrence, Sons and Lovers

“Dismissed, he wanted to kiss her, but he dared not. She half wanted him to kiss her, but could not bring herself to give any signs.”
― D.H. Lawrence, Sons and Lovers

“After one inflamed evening... he shouted at her:
"I'll make you tremble at the sound of my footstep."
It was a historical phrase in her life. She had sat down and laughed till she was quite good-humoured and merry at the idea. He had stood bursting with fury and ignominy. And, by giving her as little money as possible, by drinking much and going out with men who brutalised him and his idea of women, he paid her back.”
― D.H. Lawrence

“With all her force, with all her soul she would make up to it for having brought it into the world unloved. She would love it all the more now it was here, carry it in her love. Its clear, knowing eyes gave her pain and fear. Did it know all about her? When it lay under her heart, had it been listening then? Was there a reproach in the look? She felt the marrow melt in her bones, with fear, and pain.”
― D.H. Lawrence, Sons and Lovers

“The silences between them were peculiar. There would be the swift, slight 'cluck' of her needle, the shard 'pop' of his lips as he let out the smoke, the warmth, the sizzle on the bars as he spar in the fire. Then her thoughts turned to William... she saw him a man, young, full of vigour, making the world glow again for her.
And Morel sitting there, quite alone, and having nothing to think about, would be feeling vaguely uncomfortable. His soul would reach out in its blind way to her, and find her gone. He felt a sort of emptiness, almost like a vacuum in his soul. He was unsettled and restless. Soon he could not live in that atmosphere, and he affected his wife. Both felt an oppression on their breathing, when they were left together for some time. Then he went to bed, and she settled down to enjoy herself alone, working, thinking, living.”
― D.H. Lawrence, Sons and Lovers

“They want me in Lime Street on Monday week, mother," he cried, his eyes blazing, as he read the letter. Mrs Morel felt everything go silent inside her.
... It never occurred to him that she might be more hurt of his going away, than glad of his success.”
― D.H. Lawrence, Sons and Lovers

“My lad," she said, "they're very wise. They know they've only got to flatter your vanity, and you press up to them like a dog that has its head scratched."
"Well, they can't go on scratching for ever," he replied. "And when they've done, I trot away."
"But one day you'll find a string round your neck, that you can't pull off," she answered.”
― D.H. Lawrence, Sons and Lovers

“The children lay silent in suspense, waiting for a lull in the wind to hear what their father was doing. He might hit their mother again... And then, came the horror of the sudden silence: silence everywhere, outside, and downstairs. What was it?- was it a silence of blood? What had he done.”
― D.H. Lawrence, Sons and Lovers

“She was grieved, and bitterly sorry for the man who was hurt so much. But still, in her heart of hearts, where the love should have burned, there was a blank. Now, when all her woman's pity was roused to its full extent, when she would have slaved herself to death to nurse him and to save him, when she would have taken the pain herself, if she could, somewhere far away inside her she felt indifferent to him and to his suffering. It hurt her most of all, this failure to love him.”
― D.H. Lawrence, Sons and Lovers

“They're all alike. They're large in promises, but it's precious little fulfillment you get... I wonder who ever brought me a gold bangle."
"Well, you never wanted one."
"No, I didn't - but it would have been all the same if I had."
"Didn't my father ever buy you things?"
"Yes - one half-pound of apples - and that was all - every penny he spent on me, before we were married."
"Why?"
"Because I was silly, and when he said 'What should I buy thee?' I told him 'Nothing'. But bring me anything! - it never occurred to him.”
― D.H. Lawrence, Sons and Lovers

“Then he told her the budget of the day. His life-story, like an Arabian Nights, but much duller, was told night after night to his mother. It was almost as if it were her own life.”
― D.H. Lawrence, Sons and Lovers

“He sat down to dinner. She took the frying pan.
"Now what business had you to be making rhubarb fritters," he said to her, "when you've no time?"
"Because I choose to make fritters," she said. "And I shall be ready as soon as you are."
She made the fritters because he was only home for his dinner this one week-day, and he liked them...
"It's just like a woman," he said, "to go dabbling in the frying pan when she ought to be getting ready to go somewhere."
"And it's just like a boy, to think he knows everything," she said. She put the sweets in front of him.”
― D.H. Lawrence, Sons and Lovers

“He brought her forgetmenots. And again his heart hurt with love, seeing her hand, used with work, holding the little bunch of flowers he gave her. She was perfectly happy.”
― D.H. Lawrence, Sons and Lovers

“Besides-" her voice suddenly flashed into anger and contempt, "it is disgusting, bits of lads and girls courting."
"It is not courting," he cried.
"I don't know what else you call it."
"It's not! Do you think we spoon and do? We only talk.”
― D.H. Lawrence, Sons and Lovers

“She saw the sunshine going out of him, and she resented it.”
― D.H. Lawrence, Sons and Lovers

“Why don't you praise me up to the skies?"
She laughed.
"I should have the trouble of dragging you down again," she said.”
― D.H. Lawrence, Sons and Lovers

“You should have seen him as a young man-" she cried suddenly to Paul, drawing herself up to imitate her husband's once handsome bearing. Morel watched her shyly. He saw again the passion she had had for him. It blazed upon her for a moment. He was shy, rather scared, and humble. Yet again he felt his old glow. And then, immediately, he felt the ruin he had made during these years. He wanted to bustle about, to run away from it.
"Gi'e my back a bit of a wesh," he asked her.
His wife brought a well-soaped flannel and clapped it on his shoulders. He gave a jump.
"Eh tha mucky little 'ussy!" he cried. "Cowd as death!"...
"The next world won't be half hot enough for you," she added.
"No," he said, "tha'lt see as it's draughty for me.”
― D.H. Lawrence, Sons and Lovers

“And as she smoothed her hand over the silk collar, she thought of her eldest son. But this son was living enough inside the clothes. She passed her hand down his back to feel him. He was alive and hers.”
― D.H. Lawrence, Sons and Lovers

“That's a woman's whole doctrine for life - ease of soul and physical comfort. And I do despise it."
"Oh do you!" replied his mother. "And do you call yours a divine discontent?"
"Yes - I don't care about its divinity. But damn your happiness! So long as life's full, it doesn't matter whether it's happy or not. I'm afraid your happiness would bore me."...
"But I want you to be happy," she said, pathetically.
"Eh my dear - say rather you want me to live."
Mrs Morel felt as if her heart would break for him. At this rate, she knew he would not live. He had that poignant carelessness about himself, his own suffering, his own life, which is a form of slow suicide.”
― D.H. Lawrence, Sons and Lovers