...;we reflect that the artist speaks in the letter, and has told us not to trust him, but to 'trust the tale'. The artist, however, continues in his vein of central utterance, and veers into ofn of this great metaphors:
"I conceive a man's body as a kind of flame, like a candle flame forever upright and yet flowing: and the intellect is just the light that is shed onbto the things around. And I am not so much concerned with the things around; --which is really mind: --but with the mystery of the flame forever flowing, coming God knows how from our of practically nowhere, and being
itself, whateve there is around it, that it lights up. We have got so ridiculously mindful, that we never know that we ourselves are anything -- we think there are only the objects we shine upon. And thre the poor flame goes burning ignored, to produce this light. And instead of chasing the mystery in the fugitive, hald lighted things outside us, we ought to look at ourselves, and say 'My God, I am myself!"
I shall show that the candle-flame, golden and warm, associated with the sweetness of honey and the warmth of the sun, is a cardinal point to which Lawrence's compass naturally sets. It is opposed in Lawrence's associative world to the fierce white light of the pressure lamp, to the coldness of moonlight, and the corrosive power of salt glittering in the light like the pillar which once was Lot's wife. The cold white light is indentified with mind, and the warm gold one with being.