must be so only on the surface; for the beauty a woman holds for
man is in her weakness. I remember a famous model being asked her advice
on how to look glamorous, she responded "Just look dumb". A woman's
first word must be "No" - but her second, third, and fourth, must all be
"Yes".

Love is just this: man takes and woman gives. To preserve one's sanity
one tries not to remind oneself too often how harsh, terrible, and
immoral this antagonism is.

You see, a woman's love is not mere devotedness, but is an unreserved
sacrifice of both mind and body. She gives up all she holds dear,
especially all she holds dear: her mind and her soul. It must be all or
nothing; much as when treating a carpet for fleas one wants to be rid of
all the fleas, not merely most of them. There must be no complicating
conditions.

Thus we get the nauseating reality where a highly intelligent and
educated woman will fawn to a moronic lug of a man, who will pontificate
to her on any and every matter of life, while she sits with respectful
fear, with wide adoring eyes, ears pricked and hungry for every word he
utters, every sound he makes, every breath he takes . . . and all this
with barely restrained glee.

Where did her reason go? Where that suffering for truth? Where that
preparedness to die for an ideal? Where that noble longing for the
immortal? Feelings, it seems, negate a