The Sexual Act Is In Time What

Incredible Nervous State, Trepidation Beyond Words: To Be This Much In Love Is To Be Sick (and I Love To Be Sick).

The Analysis Of Laughter Had Opened To Me Points Of Contact Between The Fundamentals Of A Communal And Disciplined Emotional Knowledge And Those Of Discursive Knowledge.

The Sovereign Being Is Burdened With A Servitude That Crushes Him, And The Condition Of Free Men Is Deliberate Servility.

The Owl Flies, In The Moonlight, Over A Field Where The Wounded Cry Out. Like The Owl, I Fly In The Night Over My Own Misfortune.

Eroticism Cannot Be Entirely Revealed Without Poetry.