nuptials fill the lowlands in June with the odor of carrion.
The intercourse of the sexes, I have dreamed, is incredibly beautiful, too fair to be remembered. I have had thoughts about it, but they are among the most fleeting and irrecoverable in my experience. It is strange that men will talk of miracles, revelation, inspiration, and the like, as things past, while love remains.
A true marriage will differ in no wise from illumination. In all perception of the truth there is a divine ecstacy, an inexpressible delirium of joy, as when a youth embraces his betrothed virgin. The ultimate delights of a true marriage are one with this.
No wonder that out of such a union, not as end, but as accompaniment, comes the undying race of men. The womb is a most fertile soil. Some have asked if the stock of men could not be improved,—if they could not be bred as cattle. Let Love be purified, and all the rest will follow. A pure Love is thus, indeed, the panacea for all the ills of the world.
The only excuse for reproduction is improvement.
Nature abhors repetition 
Beasts merely
propagate their kind; but the offspring of
noble men and women will be superior to
themselves, as their aspirations are. By their
fruits ye shall know them.
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