The proximity of the organs of love and excretion has a long literary history: as expressions of revulsion, as a metaphor for our supposedly "dual" nature--angels of love who lust and shit--and sometimes as a reminder of mortality. Here's one of my favorite bits from W.B. Yeats, where it is put to somewhat different use:
Crazy Jane Talks to the Bishop
I met the Bishop on the road
And much said he and I.
'Those breasts are flat and fallen now,
Those veins must soon be dry;
Live in a heavenly mansion,
Not in some foul sty.'
'Fair and foul are near of kin,
And fair needs foul,' I cried.
'My friends are gone, but that's a truth
Nor grave nor bed denied,
Learned in bodily lowliness
And in the heart's pride.
'A woman can be proud and stiff
When on love intent;
But Love has pitched his mansion in
The place of excrement;
For nothing can be sole or whole
That has not been rent.'
God gave us the earth. We have dominion over the plants, the animals, the trees. God said, ”Earth is yours. Take it. Rape it. It’s yours.’
--Ann Coulter, Fox-TV: Hannity & Colmes, 20 Jun 01
Save lives! Click here!Join the World Community Grid with Team EvC!---------------------------------------
™ Version 4.2
