St. Mawr
St. Mawr is a horse: a terror! A vehicle for a philosophical treatise. Pointless blather about idle English gentry and their meaningless lives. Mom gives a haircut; daughter soaks up the ennui of life, ad nauseum. Next time that you need to be bored, or suffer from endless insomnia, try this book. It has to be the worst horse story since Spotted Horses. Wait! Maybe its the other way around. This must be non-fiction, autobiography or the like; its too mundane for fiction.
The Man Who Died
A cock crows (three times?) and is captured by a peasant. A man awakens from the dead, rolls aside the stone, and reenters the world. Guess who? After muddling around with the peasant and his wife and meeting Madeline, he departs to the Lebanon where he consorts with Isis. At last he leaves in a boat. Thank goodness. Why would anyone write this tripe; but, then this is D.H. himself, isnt it. Im sure the intellectuals find some delicious allegory in it.
St. Mawr is a horse: a terror! A vehicle for a philosophical treatise. Pointless blather about idle English gentry and their meaningless lives. Mom gives a haircut; daughter soaks up the ennui of life, ad nauseum. Next time that you need to be bored, or suffer from endless insomnia, try this book. It has to be the worst horse story since Spotted Horses. Wait! Maybe its the other way around. This must be non-fiction, autobiography or the like; its too mundane for fiction.
The Man Who Died
A cock crows (three times?) and is captured by a peasant. A man awakens from the dead, rolls aside the stone, and reenters the world. Guess who? After muddling around with the peasant and his wife and meeting Madeline, he departs to the Lebanon where he consorts with Isis. At last he leaves in a boat. Thank goodness. Why would anyone write this tripe; but, then this is D.H. himself, isnt it. Im sure the intellectuals find some delicious allegory in it.
