Bollocks Have Never Frightened Me. I'll Eat

Consensus Politics Means That You Cannot Afford To Give The Many-headed Beast, The Public, Anything To Vote Against, For Voting Against Is What Gargantuan Pseudodemocracy Has To Come Down To.

Love, Love, Love – All The Wretched Cant Of It, Masking Egotism, Lust, Masochism, Fantasy Under A Mythology Of Sentimental Postures, A Welter Of Self-induced Miseries And Joys, Blinding And Masking The Essential Personalities In The Frozen Gestures Of Courtship, In The Kissing And The Dating And The Desire, The Compliments And The Quarrels Which Vivify Its Barrenness.

The Wedding Is The Chief Ceremony Of The Middle-class Mythology, And It Functions As The Official Entrée Of The Spouses To Their Middle-class Status. This Is The Real Meaning Of Saving Up To Get Married. The Young Couple Struggles To Set Up An Image Of Comfortable Life Which They Will Be Forced To Live Up To In The Years That Follow.

The Older Woman's Love Is Not Love Of Herself, Nor Of Herself Mirrored In A Lover's Eyes, Nor Is It Corrupted By Need. It Is A Feeling Of Tenderness So Still And Deep And Warm That It Gilds Every Grass Blade And Blesses Every Fly. It Includes The Ones Who Have A Claim On It, And A Great Deal Else Besides. I Wouldn't Have Missed It For The World.

Common Morality Now Treats Childbearing As An Aberration. There Are Practically No Good Reasons Left For Exercising One's Fertility.