T. E. Lawrence Correspondence – Page 182

concrete and palpable boats or engines of my ambitions, but on stringing words together to shape his ideas and reasonings. That's what being a born writer means, I suppose. And today it is all over and nobody ever heard of him. If he had been famous in his day he would have liked it, I think; liked it depresatingly. As for fame-after-death, its a thing to spit at; the only minds worth winning are the warm ones about us. If we miss those we are failures. I suppose his being not really English, and so generally ill, barred him from his fellows. Only not in "Her Privates We" which is hot-blooded and familiar. It is puzzling. How I wish, for my own sake, that he hadn't slipped away in this fashion; but how like him. He was too shy to let anyone tell him how good he was. Yours, T.B.Shaw