Nobility on no accounts overtook me, but now I find myself scrawling despicable poetry! - the most undignified concession of frailty... at your authority hath commanded me... Carrie... This vow by your intellect, wide-eyes, and softened hair do I dare to move, show emotion... to simply care... Don Juanism was my philosophy; the expedient my style, but your grace perverted, inverted, defiled the vile. A quiver of your delicacy, a misbegotten stare now pollutes the breadth of a soul filled with air... thoughts convoluted in a head at your command are turning my lascivious desires from boyhood to man. And while we feast on ideas I pray you feel in kind, for this is transcendence: a sex of the mind.