We had found it. We stood silently. I knew this moment from previous literary pilgrimages: you look and look and try to summon up feelings which don't exist. You try saying a mantra to yourself, 'D.H. Lawrence lived here.' You say, 'I am standing in the place he stood, seeing the things he saw...', but nothing changes, everything remains exactly the same: a road, a house with sky above it and the sea glinting in the distance.
- Geoff Dyer, Out of Sheer Rage, p.60