If you persist in
throttling your impulses
you end by becoming a
clot of phlegm. You finally
spit out a gob which completely
drains you and which you only
realize years later was not a gob
of spit but your inmost self.
If you lose that you will
always race through
dark streets like
a mad man
pursued
by phantoms.
You will be able
to say with perfect
sincerity:
"I don't know what I want in life."

HENRY MILLER

Sexus