Of All The Passions, The Only One

We Live Always Under The Weight Of The Old And Odious Customs... Of Our Barbarous Ancestors.

And Taking Her Friend’s Hand, She Put It On Her Breast, On That Firm Round Covering Of A Woman’s Heart Which The Male Often Finds So Satisfying That He Makes No Attempt To Find What Lies Beneath It.

Anguish Of Suspense Made Men Even Desire The Arrival Of Enemies.

She Was The Temptress Who Had Ensnared The First Man, And Who Still Continued Her Work At Damnation; She Was The Being Who Is Feeble, Dangerous, Mysteriously Troubling. And Even More Than Her Body Of Perdition, He Hated Her Loving Soul.

I Love The Night Passionately. I Love It As I Love My Country, Or My Mistress, With An Instinctive, Deep, And Unshakeable Love. I Love It With All My Senses: I Love To See It, I Love To Breathe It In, I Love To Open My Ears To Its Silence, I Love My Whole Body To Be Caressed By Its Blackness. Skylarks Sing In The Sunshine, The Blue Sky, The Warm Air, In The Fresh Morning Light. The Owl Flies By Night, A Dark Shadow Passing Through The Darkness; He Hoots His Sinister, Quivering Hoot, As Though He Delights In The Intoxicating Black Immensity Of Space.