The Man Has A Theory. The Woman

Desire Doubled Is Love And Love Doubled Is Madness.

Philosophers Say Man Forms Himself In Dialogue.

Words Bounce. Words, If You Let Them, Will Do What They Want To Do And What They Have To Do.

Men Know Almost Nothing About Desire, They Think It Has To Do With Sexual Activity Or Can Be Discharged That Way. But Sex Is A Substitute, Like Money Or Language. Sometimes I Just Want To Stop Seeing.

Pleasure And Pain At Once Register Upon The Lover, Inasmuch As The Desirability Of The Love Object Derives, In Part, From Its Lack. To Whom Is It Lacking? To The Lover. If We Follow The Trajectory Of Eros We Consistently Find It Tracing Out This Same Route: It Moves Out From The Lover Toward The Beloved, Then Ricochets Back To The Lover Himself And The Hole In Him, Unnoticed Before. Who Is The Subject Of Most Love Poems? Not The Beloved. It Is That Hole.