There it is, Frank, some of us hate 'cats.' I can give reasons for my dislike, which to me are conclusive." "The boy who would beg for a bicycle is not likely to be without mean envyings," I replied.

"Now you have talked about romance and companionship," I went on, "but can you really feel passion ?" "Frank, what a silly question! Do you remember how Socrates says he felt when the chlamys blew aside and showed him the limbs of Charmides?
Don't you remember how the blood throbbed in his veins and how he grew blind with desire, a scene more magical than the passionate love-lines of Sappho?
"There is no other passion to be compared with it.

A woman's passion is degrading.

She is continually tempting you.

She wants your desire as a satisfaction for her vanity more than anything else, and her vanity is insatiable if her desire is weak, and so she continually tempts you to excess, and then blames you for the physical satiety and disgust which she herself has created.