ods, the toiling limpers moaning for the woman. You don't find the
sun and moon playing at pals in the sky. Their beams cross the great
gulf which is between them.

So with man and woman. They must stand clear again. They must fight
their way out of their self-consciousness: there is nothing else. Or,
rather, each must fight the other out of self-consciousness. Instead
of this leprous forbearance which we are taught to practice in our
intimate relationships, there should be the most intense open
antagonism. If your wife flirts with other men, and you don't like it,
say so before them all, before wife and man and all, say you won't
have it. If she seems to you false, in any circumstance, tell her so,
angrily, furiously, and stop her. Never mind about being justified. If
you hate anything she does, turn on her in a fury. Harry her, and make
her life a hell, so long as the real hot rage is in you. Don't
silently hate her, or silently forbear. It is such a dirty trick, so
mean and ungenerous. If you feel a burning rage, turn on her and give
it to her, and _never_ repent. It'll probably hurt you much more than
it hurts her. But never repent for your real hot rages, whether
they're "justifiable" or not. If you care one sweet straw for the
woman, and if she makes you that you can't bear any more, give it to
her, and if your heart weeps tears of blood afterwards, tell her
you're thankful she's got it for once, and you wish she had it worse.

The same with wives and their husbands. If a woman's husband gets on
her nerves, she should fly at him. If she thinks him too sweet and
smarmy with other people, she should let him have it to his nose,
straight out. She should lead him a dog's life, and never swallow her
bile.

With wife or husband, you should never swallow your bile. It makes you
go all wrong inside. Always let fly, tooth and nail, and never repent,
no matter what sort of a figure you make.

We have a vice of love, of softness and sweetness and smarminess and
intimacy and promiscuous kindness and all that sort of thing. We think
it's so awfully nice of us to be like that, in ourselves. But in our
wives or our husbands it gets on our nerves horribly. Yet we think it
oughtn't to, so we swallow our spleen.

We shouldn't. When Jesus said "if thine eye offend thee, pluck it
out," he was beside the point. The eye doesn't really offend us. We
are rather fond of our own squint eye. It only offends the person who
cares for us