あらすじ
A quiet place, if such a thing may still be found, where the living pulse of the old books is not smothered under chatter, but allowed to breathe again.Here the novels and tales of D. H. Lawrence are given back their voice. Not as relics, nor as polite entertainments, but as things alive, restless, and burning with the strange heat of human feeling. They speak of men and women in their nakedness of spirit, of the body’s dark knowledge, of love that wounds and quickens, of the deep, uneasy bond between us and the earth itself.Listen, then, not as one who gathers facts, but as one who feels. These stories are meant to be encountered like wind against the skin, or fire that stirs something long-buried into life again.Public domain