This a sweet story about a collier’s wife.
Born David Herbert Lawrence, it is said that he was often angry, unhappy and ill.
He once said of his English critics:
“Curse the blasted, jelly-boned swines, the slimy, the belly-wriggling invertebrates, the miserable sodding rotters, the flaming sods, the snivelling, dribbling, dithering palsied pulse-less lot that make up England today. . . .”
I hope you enjoy this story by David Herbert Lawrence.
2 thoughts on “Odour of Chrysanthemums by D. H. Lawrence”
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