I should prepare for it. How can
I if all the books are closed? How can I if I am blanked every time I
express my curiosity? Is there no one anywhere who'll be honest with
me?

If I look at sex right out of my own soul, it seems like something
which God didn't fail with, but succeeded with. Like something not
polluted, but purified. Like something having everything, instead of
only an occasional thing, to do with life. But the world shakes its
head. The world is nasty. But it puts on airs. The world has eaten.
But the world says it's best to starve. Folks will say they've got to
be parents. But they say they will regret it. They say sex is here.
They say we're up against its mandates or its passions. But let's
be as decent as we can with the indecent. Let's not linger on its
margins. Let's not overstay our dissipation. Sex is like eating. Who
would eat if he didn't have to? To say you enjoy a meal is carnal. To
say that you derive some sense of ecstasy from paternal and maternal
desires is a confession of depravity. Sex at the best is a sin.

Sex at the best is like stepping down. That sex might be an ascent.
That sex might be the only means of growth and expansion. You never
suppose that! You only assume perdition. You are afraid to assume
heaven. I may take pride in that which I may abstract from my anatomy.
I must not allude to my body as frankly as to my soul. I must withdraw
my body from the public eye. From discussion. From its instinctive
avowals. Our bodies must be coffined. Treated as dead before they are
born. Regarded as conveniences. Not as essential entities. The body is
only for a little while. The soul is forever. But why is that little
while not as holy as forever? They don't say. They cavalierly settle
the case of the body against itself.

So it goes. Endless vivid portrayals could be made of the anomalous
situation. The more you look at the mess we've got sex into the worse
it seems. _Someone's got to peach._ Someone's got to tell the truth.
In a world of liars who are hushers? In a world of hushers who are
liars? _Someone's got to tell the truth._ Someone's got to give sex
its due. _You can't give spirit its due until you give sex its due._
You can't accept one and cast aside one. They go together. They are
inseparable.

You refer to body and soul as if you knew just where one stops and the
other commences. Maybe neither stops and neither commences. Maybe they
are not two things but two names. Ma