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A review by farihaa_
The Rainbow by D.H. Lawrence
5.0
How to act, that was the question? Whither to go, how to become oneself? One was not oneself, one was merely a half-stated question. How to become oneself, how to know the question and the answer of oneself, when one was merely an unfixed something-nothing, blowing about like the winds of heaven, undefined, unstated.
She had an idea that she must walk for the rest of her life, wearily, wearily. Step after step, step after step, the monotony produced a deep, cold sense of nausea in her. How profound was her cold nausea, how profound! That too plumbed the bottom. She seemed destined to find the bottom of all things today: the bottom of all things. Well, at any rate she was walking along the bottommost bed - she was quite safe: quite safe, if she had to go on and on for ever, seeing this was the very bottom, and there was nothing deeper.
She had an idea that she must walk for the rest of her life, wearily, wearily. Step after step, step after step, the monotony produced a deep, cold sense of nausea in her. How profound was her cold nausea, how profound! That too plumbed the bottom. She seemed destined to find the bottom of all things today: the bottom of all things. Well, at any rate she was walking along the bottommost bed - she was quite safe: quite safe, if she had to go on and on for ever, seeing this was the very bottom, and there was nothing deeper.