My wife and I have been reading Not I, But the Wind by Frieda Lawrence. Certainly not a great work of art, but an interesting insight into D.H. Lawrence’s life and the earthly influence of genius. Very often that word is mentioned in the book. Lawrence thought he was a genius, and Frieda backed him up with all her heart. The writer’s genius seems to engulf everything, and separate the couple from the rest of mankind. It seems to modify connections and relations, reducing the whole surrounding world to dust, changing the value of all surrounding lives so that all other lives vanish into nothingness, never to be mentioned or remembered again. There is a bright light which sets off the two lovers, and everyone else is as if they had never existed or been of any value at all. This is the power of genius: all other men are just handfuls of dust and slime, while a genius is a rare angel who unlocks the doors of divine perfection.

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