The point is to show who is the cross and who the crucified.
Perhaps there are only a few women who experience without deception the overwhelming intoxication of the senses which they expectfrom their encounters with men, which they feel bound to expect because of the fuss made about it in novels, written by men.
If anyone has a conscience it's generally a guilty one.
Finished things cease to be a shelter for the spirit; but work in progress is a delight.
My greatest fear: repetition.
All that remains is the mad desire for present identity through a woman.