In Order To Pass The

This Progressive Effacement Of Human Relationships Is Not Without Certain Problems For The Novel. How, In Point Of Fact, Would One Handle The Narration Of Those Unbridled Passions, Stretching Over Many Years, And At Times Making Their Effect Felt On Several Generations? We’re A Long Way From Wuthering Heights, To Say The Least. The Novel Form Is Not Conceived For Depicting Indifference Or Nothingness; A Flatter, More Terse, And Dreary Discourse Would Need To Be Invented.

A Source Of Permanent, Accessible Pleasure, Our Genitals Exist. The God Who Created Our Misfortune, Who Made Us Short-lived, Vain And Cruel, Has Also Provided This Form Of Meagre Compensation. If We Couldn't Have Sex From Time To Time, What Would Life Be? A Futile Struggle Against Joints That Stiffen, Caries That Form. All Of Which, Moreover, Is As Uninteresting As Humanly Possible - The Collagen Which Makes Muscles Stiffen, The Appearance Of Microbic Cavities In The Gums.

Why Am I Popular? I Don't Know. Is It A Mistake? I Should Think It's A Mistake Somewhere.

Just Like Unrestrained Economic Liberalism, And For Similar Reasons, Sexual Liberalism Produces Phenomena Of Absolute Pauperization. Some Men Make Love Every Day; Others Five Or Six Times In Their Life, Or Never. Some Make Love With Dozens Of Women, Others With None. It’s What’s Known As ‘the Law Of The Market’… In A Totally Liberal Sexual System Certain People Have A Varied And Exciting Erotic Life; Others Are Reduced To Masturbation And Solitude.

I Think That If Writers Don't Speak About Real Life, It's Because They Don't Know It.