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Young Irony
Butthetruthisthatsexisrightinthemiddleofourpurestabstractions,soclosethatitobscuresvision....Icankissyounowandwill...."Heleanedtowardherinhissaddle,butshedrewaway.
"Ican’t—Ican’tkissyounow—I’mmoresensitive."
"You’remorestupidthen,"hedeclaredratherimpatiently."Intellectisnoprotectionfromsexanymorethanconventionis..."
"Whatis?"shefiredup."TheCatholicChurchorthemaximsofConfucius?"
Amorylookedup,rathertakenaback.
"That’syourpanacea,isn’tit?"shecried."Oh,you’rejustanoldhypocrite,too.ThousandsofscowlingpriestskeepingthedegenerateItaliansandilliterateIrishrepentantwithgabble-gabbleaboutthesixthandninthcommandments.It’sjustallcloaks,sentimentandspiritualrougeandpanaceas.I’lltellyouthereisnoGod,notevenadefiniteabstractgoodness;soit’sallgottobeworkedoutfortheindividualbytheindividualhereinhighwhiteforeheadslikemine,andyou’retoomuchtheprigtoadmitit."Sheletgoherreinsandshookherlittlefistsatthestars.
"Ifthere’saGodlethimstrikeme—strikeme!"
"TalkingaboutGodagainafterthemannerofatheists,"Amorysaidsharply.Hismaterialism,alwaysathincloak,wastorntoshredsbyEleanor’sblasphemy....Sheknewitanditangeredhimthatsheknewit.
