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Table of contents
PREFACE
TOUCH-1
TOUCH-2
TOUCH-3 (begin)
TOUCH-3 (end)
TOUCH-4 (begin)
TOUCH-4 (end)
SMELL-1
SMELL-2
SMELL-3.1
SMELL-3.2
SMELL-3.3
SMELL-3.4
SMELL-3.5
SMELL-4 (begin)
SMELL-4 (end)
SMELL-5
HEARING-1
HEARING-2
HEARING-3
VISION-1.1
VISION-1.2
VISION-1.3
VISION-2.1
VISION-2.2
VISION-2.3
VISION-2.4
VISION-3
VISION-4
VISION-5
APPENDIX A
APPENDIX B HISTORY-1
APPENDIX B HISTORY-2.1
APPENDIX B HISTORY-2.2
APPENDIX B HISTORY-2.3
APPENDIX B HISTORY-3.1
APPENDIX B HISTORY-3.2
INDEX OF AUTHORS

 

 

HISTORY III.--I had become good looking. For a time I knew what 

it was to have loving looks from every woman I met, and being 

saner and healthier I would seem to be moving in a divine 

atmosphere of color and fragrance, pearly teeth and bright eyes. 

Even the old women with daughters looked at me amiably--married 

women with challenge and maidens with Paradise in their eyes. 

 

"I was standing one morning at St. Peter's corner, with two young 

friends, when a girl went by, coming over from the Roman Catholic 

cathedral. When she had passed she looked back, with that 

imperious swing that is almost a command, at me, as my friends 

distinctly admitted. They advised me to follow her; I did so, and 

she turned a pretty, blushing face and pair of dark gray eyes, 

with just the kind of eyebrows I liked: brown, very level, rather 

thick, but long. Her teeth and mouth were perfect, and she spoke 

with a slight Irish brogue. She let me do all the talking while 

she took my measure. God knows what she saw in me! I spoke in an 

affected manner, I remember, imitating some swell character I had 

seen on the stage a night or two before, but I was wise enough 

not to talk too much and to behave myself. She promised to meet 

me again and made the appointment. She was a school-teacher and 

engaged to be married to some one else. She meant to amuse 

herself her own way before she married. The second night I met 

her she allowed me to kiss her as much as I liked and promised 

all her favors for the third night. We took a long walk, and in 

the dark she gave herself to me, but I hurt her so much I had to 

stop two or three times. She had had connection only once, years 

before, when at school herself. She was inclined to be sensual, 

but she was young, fresh, and pretty, and her kisses turned my 

head. I fell genuinely in love with her and told her so, one 

night when she was particularly fascinating, with the tears in my 

eyes; and her face met mine with equal love. The first night or 

two I had felt no pleasure--whether through years of self-abuse 

or not I do not know,--but this night my whole being was excited. 

I met her once and sometimes twice a week and was always thinking 

of her. My sister saw me looking love-sick one day and I heard 

her say 'He's in love,' which rather flattered me, and I looked 

more love-sick and idiotic than ever. It was all wrong and 

perverted. She continued to meet her _fiance_, and intended to 

marry him. We both spoke of 'him' as an adultress speaks of her 

husband. That high level of tears and childlike joy in our youth 

and love was never reached again. But I realized her _sex_, her 

kisses, her presence--after all those years of horror (if she had 

only known)--more even than the sexual act itself; while she, as 

time went on, commenced to show a curiosity which I thought 


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