"The old man rambled ahead. One ought to be good-kind-brave: all the old advice. Yet it was sincere. It came from a living heart.
'Why?' he interrupted. 'Grandpapa, why?'
'The light within-'
'I haven't one.' He laughed, lest emotion should master him. 'Such light as I had went out six weeks ago. I don't want to be good or kind or brave. If I go on living I shall be - not those things: the reverse of them. I don't want that either; I don't want anything.'
'The light within-'
Maurice had neared confidence, but they would not have been listened to. His grandfather didnt, couldn't understand. He was only to get 'the light within - be kind', yet the phrase continued the rearrangement that had begun inside him. Why should one be kind and good? For someone's sake - for the sake of Clive or God or the sun?
But he had no one.
No one except his mother mattered and she only a little. He was practically alone, and why should he go on living? There was really no reason, yet he had a dreary feeling he should, because he had not got Death either; she, like Love, had glanced at him for a minute, then turned away, and left him to 'play the game'. And he might have to play as long as his grandfather, and retire as absurdly."
*
this is a snap i took of Kenny and Karen's (the owners of BooksActually) copy of Maurice at their An Ode to Penguin exhibition a few weeks back. i really liked this cover as compared to the modern versions; too ostentatious. i was ridiculously happy when i managed to procure Maurice for myself at my favourite Bras Brasah haunt - with the exact same cover!
Maurice has proven to be a brave companion, one to keep by one's side. i'm looking out for the film version next, and perhaps another book by E.M. Forster - A Room with a View and Where Angels Fear to Tread, perhaps? aren't the names beautiful?
i'm grasping at this, at Maurice, at the stacks of books, at this blog; desperately. it's somewhat cathartic but it's not enough; i'm hanging on for dear life as it is.
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