The Compelled Mother Loves Her

Awareness Of Time As Flying Has Some Advantages; It Precludes Boredom, For One Thing. It Matters Little That Younger People Find Older People Boring Or Slow. Older People Have A Right To Resist Being Rushed, To Stand And Stare At The Fragile World That Has Become So Unspeakably Dear To Them. For The Lucky Ones, Who Will Not Have To Leave While They Are Still In Love With Life, There Will Come A Later Time When That Passion Too Will Fade, But While One Is Still Possessed By That Great Tenderness, It Must Be Yielded To.

The Few Men Who Do A Hand's Turn Around The House Expect Gratitude And Recognition, So Sure Are They That, Though It Is Their Dirt, It Is Not Their Job.

We Can't Change The Moon But We Can Live In Harmony With Its Tides, And We Can Make Some Ripples Of Our Own.

Every Wife Who Slaves To Keep Herself Pretty, To Cook Her Husband's Favourite Meals, To Build Up His Pride And Confidence In Himself At The Expense Of His Sense Of Reality, To Be His Closest And Effectively His Only Friend, To Encourage Him To Rejectthe Consensus Of Opinionand Find Reassurance Only In Her Arms Is Binding Her Mate To Her With Hoops Of Steel That Will Strangle Them Both.

The Pain Of Sexual Frustration, Of Repressed Tenderness, Of Denied Curiosity, Of Isolation In The Ego, Of Greed, Suppressed Rebellion, Of Hatred Poisoning All Love And Generosity, Permeates Our Sexuality. What We Love We Destroy.