I did not know how fallacious that method of expelling nature is
John Addington Symonds
I fought my wretched soul,
Damned me if I did not,
I shunned the dreams that filled my heart.
I struggled with that passion,
Forced it away
Only for it to return, sick and depraved.
That illness, that malady,
Still threatened to consume me!
And now I see that my fight
Was an exercise in futility!
Curse this wicked desire!
Let my perverted heart be still!
Exorcise this emotion from my breast
For it will not go by my will.
Symonds is something of a personal idol. Not a hero. But an idol. A homosexual in Victorian Britain, his Memoirs tell a tragic tale of a man who knew what he was, but felt that he was alone and perverted. It is one of the few books I have read to make me want to cry. I was in the library when I read it. I did not cry.
The Hapless Neo-Romantic