`Very nice aphorism,' said Birkin.
`Don't you agree?' asked Gerald.
`Quite,' said Birkin. `Only it bores me rather, when you become aphoristic.'
`Damn you, Rupert, you want all the aphorisms your own way,' said Gerald.
`No. I want them out of the way, and you're always shoving them in it.'
Gerald smiled grimly at this humorism. Then he made a little gesture of dismissal, with his eyebrows.
`You don't believe in having any standard of behaviour at all, do you?' he challenged Birkin, censoriously.
`Standard -- no. I hate standards. But they're necessary for the common ruck. Anybody who is anything can just be himself and do as he likes.'
`But what do you mean by being himself?' said Gerald. `Is that an aphorism or a cliche?'
`I mean just doing what you want to do. I think it was perfect good form in Laura to bolt from Lupton to the church door. It was almost a masterpiece in good form. It's the hardest thing in the world to act spontaneously on one's impulses -- and it's the only really gentlemanly thing to do -- provided you're fit to do it.'
`You don't expect me to take you seriously, do you?' asked Gerald.
`Yes, Gerald, you're one of the very few people I do expect that of.'
`Then I'm afraid I can't come up to your expectations here, at any rate. You think people should just do as they like.'
`I think they always do. But I should like them to like the purely individual thing in themselves, which makes them act in singleness. And they only like to do the collective thing.'
`And I,' said Gerald grimly, `shouldn't like to be in a world of people who acted individually and spontaneously, as you call it. We should have everybody cutting everybody else's throat in five minutes.'
`That means you would like to be cutting everybody's throat,' said Birkin.
`How does that follow?' asked Gerald crossly.
`No man,' said Birkin, `cuts another man's throat unless he wants to cut it, and unless the other man wants it cutting. This is a complete truth. It takes two people to make a murder: a murderer and a murderee. And a murderee is a man who is murderable. And a man who is murderable is a man who in a profound if hidden lust desires to be murdered.'
`Sometimes you talk pure nonsense,' said Gerald to Birkin. `As a matter of fact, none of us wants our throat cut, and most other people would like to cut it for us -- some time or other --'
`It's a nasty view of things, Gerald,' said Birkin, `and no wonder you are afraid of yourself and your own unhappiness.'
`How am I afraid of myself?' said Gerald; `and I don't think I am unhappy.'
`You seem to have a lurking desire to have your gizzard slit, and imagine every man has his knife up his sleeve for you,' Birkin said.