"Multiply and be fruitful; let my world be ever more and more
peopled."
For this she trains and fashions her young girls, models them with
cunning hand, paints them with her wonderful red and white, crowns
them with her glorious hair, teaches them to smile and laugh, trains
their voices into music, sends them out into the world to captivate,
to enslave us.
"See how beautiful she is, my lad," says the cunning old woman.
"Take her; build your little nest with her in your pretty suburb;
work for her and live for her; enable her to keep the little ones
that I will send."
And to her, old hundred-breasted Artemis whispers, "Is he not a
bonny lad? See how he loves you, how devoted he is to you! He will
work for you and make you happy; he will build your home for you.
You will be the mother of his children."
So we take each other by the hand, full of hope and love, and from
that hour Mother Nature has done with us. Let the wrinkles come;
let our voices grow harsh; let the fire she lighted in our hearts
die out; let the foolish selfishness we both thought we had put
behind us for ever creep back to us, bringing unkindness and
indifference, angry thoughts and cruel words into our lives.
Pages:
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103