“The Triumph of the Flesh”

 We have passed from the regions of dreams and of vision. And the flesh is the flesh and the rose is the rose. And we see but the absolute joy of the present in the Sunlight of beauty. I am filled with carniverious lust: like a tiger, I crouch and I feed on my beautiful prey: There is nought in the monsterious world of Astarte so fair as thy body. Let me lie, Let me die on thy snow-coloured bosom. I would eat of thy flesh as a delicate fruit, I am drunk of it’s smell, and the scent of thy tresses is a flame that devours. Thou art demon and God, thou art hell, thou art Heaven, thou art love that is lust, thou art lust that is love, And I see but the heavenly grace of thy body, A picture–“

–George Moore

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