Summary

Portrait of D. H. Lawrence D. H. Lawrence Studies in Classic American Literature… (1923)

I have often thought, hearing American tourists in Europe - in the Bargello in Florence, for example, or in the Piazza di San Marco in Venice - exclaiming, 'Isn't that just too cunning!' or else, 'Aren't you perfectly crazy about Saint Mark's! Don't you think those cupolas are like the loveliest turnips upside down, you know' - as if the beautiful things of Europe were just having their guts pulled out by these American admirers. They admire so wholesale. Sometimes they even seem to grovel.
Source: Wikisource

Portrait of D. H. Lawrence D. H. Lawrence Studies in Classic American Literature… (1923)

When America set out to destroy Kings and Lords and Masters, and the whole paraphernalia of European superiority, it pushed a pin right through its own body, and on that pin it still flaps and buzzes and twists in misery. The pin of democratic equality. Freedom.
There'll never be any life in America till you pull the pin out and admit natural inequality. Natural superiority, natural inferiority. Till such time, Americans just buzz round like various sorts of propellers, pinned down by their freedom and equality.
Source: Wikisource

Portrait of D. H. Lawrence D. H. Lawrence Studies in Classic American Literature… (1923)

Not that the Red Indian will ever possess the broad lands of America. At least I presume not. But his ghost will.
The Red Man died hating the white man. What remnant of him lives, lives hating the white man. Go near the Indians, and you just feel it. As far as we are concerned, the Red Man is subtly and unremittingly diabolic. Even when he doesn't know it. He is dispossessed in life, and unforgiving. He doesn't believe in us and our civilization, and so is our mystic enemy, for we push him off the face of the earth.
Belief is a mysterious thing. It is the only healer of the soul's wounds.
Source: Wikisource

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