Love Is Desire Sustained By

When I Saw Him Look At Me With Lust, I Dropped My Eyes But, In Glancing Away From Him, I Caught Sight Of Myself In The Mirror. And I Saw Myself, Suddenly, As He Saw Me, My Pale Face, The Way The Muscles In My Neck Stuck Out Like Thin Wire. I Saw How Much That Cruel Necklace Became Me. And, For The First Time In My Innocent And Confined Life, I Sensed In Myself A Potentiality For Corruption That Took My Breath Away.

The End Of Exile Is The End Of Being.

We Must Not Blame Our Poor Symbols If They Take Forms That Seem Trivial To Us, Or Absurd, ... However Paltry They May Be; The Nature Of Our Life Alone Has Determined Their Forms.

So I Suppose I Do Not Know How He Really Looked, And, In Fact, I Suppose I Shall Never Know, Now, For He Was Plainly An Object Created In The Mode Of Fantasy. His Image Was Already Present Somewhere In My Head And I Was Seeking To Discover It In Actuality, Looking At Every Face I Met In Case It Was The Right Face - That Is, The Face Which Corresponded To My Notion Of The Unseen Face Of The One I Should Love, A Face Created Parthenogeneticallyby The Rage To Love Which Consumed Me.

I Desire Therefore I Exist.