More than once in my youth I was saved from parenthood by very sensible and unwilling women who knew me better than I, in a fit of transient passion, knew myself.
Nature clumsily tailors our desires to her purposes, lust, it seems, more clumsily than most.
Her purpose is far from the wellbeing or even the survival of the individual.
We are driven mad with lust that we might reproduce, at whatever cost to ourselves.
Even those who, as we might say, have no vocation for parenthood.
Nature is prodigal and wasteful of us and our lives.
Thomas Hardy.
Schopenhauer.
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