Neither sainte nor super; neither woman nor man. Embodiment of third-gender paragon. Dauntless as any woman, reckless as any man, not following, less leading, wildness and wiseness, sempiternal. In vast surrender, strength renewed; in service, servitude, undenied, urgency and inexorability, my command. My heart much stronger than your hand. My will, more persevering than your demand. Shame in nothing; humiliation, mere gratification. Your temptation, my fulfilment. Your rage, my control. Your lies, your censure. Between hypocrisy and truth, tolerance. Approaching rhythms of old circumstance to the perilous margin, moment, this latest all-risk: An I who mine is for the courage no other to be. Reckless, rebellious, free.
All that you deny, because you lack the courage to accept it; all that offends, because it tempts; all that angers, because it controls; all that you refuse to see, to hear, to touch, to taste; all that you slander, abuse, loathe, abhor, and despise; all of this will defeat or destroy you in the end. No one should be held to blame, censured, for the lies others live. Between hypocrisy and truth, there is tolerance. All that you at first find objectionable, repellent, painful, vile, when observed with an open heart and mind, may be transformed into, lead or open onto, a source of wonder, beauty, joy, and fulfilment. A vast surrender is your only strength. Life does not give itself to one who tries to keep all of its advantages at once. Live it now, or lose it forever.