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- Дэвид Герберт Лоуренс
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- Любовник леди Чаттерлей
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- Стр. 349/388
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’
God
knows
!
I
can
feel
something
inside
me
,
all
mixed
up
with
a
lot
of
rage
.
But
what
it
really
amounts
to
,
I
don
’
t
know
.
’
’
Shall
I
tell
you
?
’
she
said
,
looking
into
his
face
.
’
Shall
I
tell
you
what
you
have
that
other
men
don
’
t
have
,
and
that
will
make
the
future
?
Shall
I
tell
you
?
’
’
Tell
me
then
,
’
he
replied
.
’
It
’
s
the
courage
of
your
own
tenderness
,
that
’
s
what
it
is
:
like
when
you
put
your
hand
on
my
tail
and
say
I
’
ve
got
a
pretty
tail
.
’
The
grin
came
flickering
on
his
face
.
’
That
!
’
he
said
.
Then
he
sat
thinking
.
’
Ay
!
’
he
said
.
’
You
’
re
right
.
It
’
s
that
really
.
It
’
s
that
all
the
way
through
.
I
knew
it
with
the
men
.
I
had
to
be
in
touch
with
them
,
physically
,
and
not
go
back
on
it
.
I
had
to
be
bodily
aware
of
them
and
a
bit
tender
to
them
,
even
if
I
put
em
through
hell
.
It
’
s
a
question
of
awareness
,
as
Buddha
said
.
But
even
he
fought
shy
of
the
bodily
awareness
,
and
that
natural
physical
tenderness
,
which
is
the
best
,
even
between
men
;
in
a
proper
manly
way
.
Makes
’
em
really
manly
,
not
so
monkeyish
.
Ay
!
it
’
s
tenderness
,
really
;
it
’
s
cunt
-
awareness
.
Sex
is
really
only
touch
,
the
closest
of
all
touch
.
And
it
’
s
touch
we
’
re
afraid
of
.
We
’
re
only
half
-
conscious
,
and
half
alive
.
We
’
ve
got
to
come
alive
and
aware
.
Especially
the
English
have
got
to
get
into
touch
with
one
another
,
a
bit
delicate
and
a
bit
tender
.
It
’
s
our
crying
need
.
’
She
looked
at
him
.
’
Then
why
are
you
afraid
of
me
?
’
she
said
.
