How to tell if you are in a D. H. Lawrence novel

With more than a hat tip to Mallory Ortberg.
(from a rejected submission to the Toast, but seriously, you guys, D H Lawrence!)
(Put an exclamation point at the end of every sentence. (!))

If you are a man:

You are from a family of farmers in the Midlands, a place filled with the blind pulse of life: the blood of the cow, the cry of the dying rabbit, the sucking throat of the force-fed goose.

When you look over the fields of your patrimony, you can easily imagine them opening into furrows to accept your seed.

Your time at school filled you with despair at your own dumbness, your insensibility to the nobility of books and literature. You are mad with the same passions these books describe and envious of those who can decipher their tiny marks.

You have complete mastery of the tokens of manhood, animal strength, hardness, the easy thrust of power that receives ample welcome from the thick strong body of a full-built woman.

Your rude hot blood is mortified by the dark quick disapproving look from a refined woman.

When you ride a horse you hold surcharged, throbbing life between the grip of your knees.

As you grapple in the arms of your enemy, you wonder, inarticulately, whether you might love him. You fight on, heaving with mixed-up love and hate.

Strong drink will take away sexual desire for a time. As long as life spurts within you, sexual desire will return, along with a bad mood from the drink.

If you are a woman:

You have mixed feelings. About everything. Contempt and desire, rage and happiness, fear and delight.

You are or will become a Brangwen.

You despise poverty and grossness and the squalor of life. You will answer hotly when offended by crudeness or insensitivity, yet be derisive toward the weak and the ignorant.

You may spend your youth feeding on ecstasy, a strange kind of ecstasy that makes the earthy people of the village shrink from you.

When you ride a horse you hold surcharged, throbbing life between the grip of your knees.

Your lover may want to kill you one day for not giving yourself to him fully. Your lover may want to kill you one day for giving yourself too fully, for your self-abandonment. Either way, he will want to kill you. You will outsmart him very brutally.

The challenge of your life is that balance, so desired, so elusive, sought in the heated intercourse between body and soul. You are at a threshold with exaltation and degradation at either hand.

Exhausted, barren hysteria is a distinct possibility, if you cannot or will not find one to accept your sacrifices, to take for himself your Christ-like naked soul. Flowers may help your condition.

You will never know whether you weep for misery or for joy.

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