“With your ears and your critical mind only.”
“Say it, anyhow, say it.”
Richard sat feeling very stupid. The communicative soul is like the ass, you can lead him to the water, but you can’t make him drink.
“Why,” he said, “it means an end of us and what we are, in the first place. And then a re-entry into us of the great God, who enters us from below, not from above.”
Kangaroo sat bunched up like some creature watching round-eyed out of a darker corner.
“How do you mean, enters us from below?” he barked.
“Not through the spirit. Enters us from the lower self, the dark self, the phallic self, if you like.”
“Enters us from the phallic self?” snapped Kangaroo sharply.
“Sacredly. The god you can never see or visualise, who stands dark on the threshold of the phallic me.”
“The phallic you, my dear young friend, what is that but love?”