The revolutionary woman knows the world she seeks to overthrow is precisely one in which love between equal human beings is well nigh impossible. We are still part of the ironical working-out of this, our own cruel contradiction. One of the most compelling facts which can unite women and make us act is the overwhelming indignity or bitter hurt of being regarded as simply __he other_, __n object_, __ommodity_, __hing_. We act directly from a consciousness of the impossibility of loving or being loved without distortion. But we must still demand now the preconditions of what is impossible at the moment. It is a most disturbing dialectic, our praxis of pain.
Temujin nodded. He had every intention to do his bit in the battle, like his mother.
Amgalant One: The Old Ideal
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Temujin nodded. He had every intention to do his bit in the battle, like his mother.
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Such coincidences were the rhymes that God wrote into fate, his chords of music.
I doubt you would recognize an adventure of any sort if it came right up and bit you on the a---Mother!I was going to say arm.