25 Aug 1921

25 August 1921

Chalet des Sapins, Montana-sur-Sierre, Switzerland

  What makes Lawrence a real writer is his passion. Without passion one writes in the air or on the sands of the seashore. But L. has got it all wrong, I believe. He is right, I imagine or how shall I put it . . .? Its my belief too, that  nothing will save the world but Love. But his tortured, satanic demon lover I think is all wrong. The whole subject is so mysterious, tho'; one could write about it for ever. But let me try & say something.

  It seems to me that there is a great change come over the world since people like Us believed in God. God is now gone for all of us. Yet we must believe and not only that we must carry our weakness and our sin and our devilishness to somebody. I don't mean in a bad, abasing way. But we must feel that we are known that our hearts are known as God knew us. Therefore Love today between "lovers" has to be not only human, but divine today. They love each other for everything and through everything, and their love is their religion. It cant become anything less - even affection - I mean it can't become less supreme because it is an act of faith to believe! But oh, it is no good. I can't write it all out. I should go into pages & pages. But I think L. is a sign of the times - just as M's reply was, too.

[To Dorothy Brett, Collected Letters, 29 August 1921.]