If you think you are emancipated, you might consider the idea of tasting your menstrual blood--if it makes you sick, you've a long... way to go, baby.LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »
The moon is a white strange world, great, white, soft-seeming globe in the night sky, and what she actually communicates to me acr...oss space I shall never fully know. But the moon that pulls the tides, and the moon that controls the menstrual periods of women, and the moon that touches the lunatics, she is not the mere dead lump of the astronomist.... When we describe the moon as dead, we are describing the deadness in ourselves. When we find space so hideously void, we are describing our own unbearable emptiness.LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »
Virginity is now a mere preamble or waiting room to be got out of as soon as possible; it is without significance. Old age is simi...larly a waiting room, where you go after life's over and wait for cancer or a stroke. The years before and after the menstrual years are vestigial: the only meaningful condition left to women is that of fruitfulness.LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »
It is not menstrual blood per se which disturbs the imagination--unstanchable as that red flood may be--but rather the albumen in ...the blood, the uterine shreds, placental jellyfish of the female sea. This is the chthonian matrix from which we rose. We have an evolutionary revulsion from slime, our site of biologic origins. Every month, it is woman's fate to face the abyss of time and being, the abyss which is herself.LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »