Kangaroo / by D.H. Lawrence.

  • D. H. Lawrence
Date:
1923
Catalogue details

Licence: In copyright

Credit: Kangaroo / by D.H. Lawrence. Source: Wellcome Collection.

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    far-off indifference. The world revolved and revolved and disappeared. Like a stone that has fallen into the sea, his old life, the old meaning, fell, and rippled, and there was vacancy, with the sea and the Australian shore in it. Far- off, far-off, as if he had landed on another planet, as a man might land after death. Leaving behind the body of care. Even the body of desire. Shed. All that had meant so much to him, shed. All the old world and self of care, the beautiful care as well as the weary care, shed like a dead body. The landscape ?—he cared not a thing about the landscape. Love ?—he was absolved from love, as if by a great pardon. Humanity?—there was none. Thought?— fallen like a stone into the sea. The great, the glamorous past?—worn thin, frail, like a frail, translucent film of shell thrown up on the shore. To be alone, mindless and memoryless between the sea, under the sombre wall-front of Australia. To be alone with a long, wide shore and land, heartless, soulless. As alone and as absent and as present as an aboriginal dark on the sand in the sun. The strange falling-away of everything. The cabbage-palms in the sea-wind were sere like old mops. The jetty straddled motionless from the shore. A pony walked on the sand snuffing the sea-weed. The past all gone so frail and thin. “ What have I cared about, what have I cared for ? There is nothing to care about.” Absolved from it all. The soft, blue, humanless sky of Australia, the pale, white unwritten atmosphere of Australia. Tabula rasa. The world a new leaf. And on the new leaf, nothing. The white clarity of the Australian, fragile atmosphere. Without a mark, without a record. “ Why have I cared ? I don’t care. How strange it is here, to be soul-less and alone.” That was the perpetual refrain at the back of his mind. To be soulless and alone, by the Southern Ocean, in Australia. “ Why do I wrestle with my soul? I have no soul.” Clear as the air about him this truth possessed him. “ Why do I talk of the soul ? My soul is shed like a sheath. I am soulless and alone, soulless and alone. That which is soulless is perforce alone.” The sun was curving to the crest of the dark ridge. As soon as the sun went behind the ridge, shadow fell on the