What Love Lays Bare In Me Is

We Don't Forget, But Something Vacant Settles In Us.

The Gesture Of The Amorous Embrace Seems To Fulfill, For A Time, The Subject's Dream Of Total Union With The Loved Being: The Longing For Consummation With The Other.

I Love You Is Unsubtle. It Removes Explanations, Facilities, Degrees, Scruples.

Fashion Postulates An Achrony, A Time Which Does Not Exist; Here The Past Is Shameful And The Present Is Constantly "eaten Up" By The Fashion Being Heralded.

Someone Tells Me: This Kind Of Love Is Not Viable. But How Can You Evaluate Viability? Why Is The Viable A Good Thing? Why Is It Better To Last Than To Burn?