from Aldous Huxley

“Pity made him a knight errant. Love, he had then believed (for he was only twenty-two at the time, ardently pure, with the adolescent purity of sexual desires turned inside out , just down from Oxford and stuffed with poetry and the lubrications of philosophers and mystics), love was talk, love was spiritual communion and companionship. That was real love. The sexual business was only an irrelevancy- unavoidable…

from Point Counter Point

Good writing, perhaps this is an answer for a question of some kind- or just another Monday Non-Sequitar. Makes one think of being young, or rather the absolute impossibility of remembering what it was really like to be young.

mirror magritte

(for 10 zamboni-points, can anyone name the  movie in which the main character is a professor teaching this book?)

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