My Sister Said, You're Making

Mystical State, Madness, How It Frightens People. How Utterly Crazy They Become, Remote, Rude, Peculiar, Cruel, Taunting, Farouche As Wild Beasts Who Have Smelled Danger, The Unthinkable.

During Depression The World Disappears. Language Itself. One Has Nothing To Say. Nothing. No Small Talk, No Anecdotes. Nothing Can Be Risked On The Board Of Talk. Because The Inner Voice Is So Urgent In Its Own Discourse: How Shall I Live? How Shall I Manage The Future? Why Should I Go On?

What Is The Future Of The Woman's Movement How In The Hell Do I Know I Don't Run It.

Coitus Can Scarcely Be Said To Take Place In A Vacuum; Although Of Itself It Appears A Biological And Physical Activity, It Is Set So Deeply Within The Larger Context Of Human Affairs That It Serves As A Charged Microcosm Of The Variety Of Attitudes And Values To Which Culture Subscribes. Among Other Things, It May Serve As A Model Of Sexual Politics On An Individual Or Personal Plane.

[madness] Is The Jail We Could All End Up In. And We Know It. And Watch Our Step. For A Lifetime. We Behave. A Fantastic And Entire System Of Social Control, By The Threat Of Example As Effective Over The General Population As Detention Centers In Dictatorships, The Image Of The Madhouse Floats Through Every Mind For The Course Of Its Lifetime.