§ 96
A fundamental principle of erotics is that in the relation of husband and wife, this condition of preparedness for the husband’s relaxation of his erotic tension is the erotic acme of the wife herself. This is the pattern referred to at the beginning of the last section.
The emotional relaxation of the husband is, from the biological viewpoint, essentially inept and silly if it occurs in the presence of a woman unprepared for it. It is ridiculous enough anywhere else than in the woman’s presence; but she is not all present, spiritually, mentally, psychically, no matter how close physically, if she be not herself in the very climax of erotic acme. His emotional relaxation, occurring at any time previous to the complete alignment of the totality of her personality solely in the erotic direction is as inept as falling into the water completely clothed.
It is as if Nature had said unambiguously to man:
“Your happiness depends on your own emotional control of the emotions of your mate. She should never know that you have lost control of your emotions. If you do, you are a mere puling infant. It is therefore your duty to make her lose control of her erotic emotions.
“Only in case you are able to exalt her to this altitude of supermundane excitement, have you any right to lose control of your own emotions. You can then let them go, give free rein to them; and you will probably both come to at the same time, she not knowing definitely exactly what has happened to her, but surprised, delighted, awed, overwhelmed at the beauty and wonder of it. She knew that being in love was pleasant. She did not know that the reward of being in love was a flight of illimitable velocity through the azure empyrean beyond the stars and back again.”
CONSUMMATION
Burning—relentless burning—
With the gently caressing fires that will not be calmed.
A delicious sense of stifling.
Suddenly a fierce storm of sharp, exquisite pains ...
Like little electric needle shocks ...
Pierces every tiny part of your body—
Till you are raised out of this earth.
A great calm comes over you then—
And you open languorously, luxuriously
Like an enormous, fresh passion flower opens its petals to the sun.
Something comes and snuggles into its petals like a honey bee
And they slowly close again—and then—just nothing then—
The sensation of having no sensations—great peace, vast peace—and
Nothing, nothing, nothing.
—Florence E. von Wien.