Though, as of the moment, this poet lacks the hours required for a robust reentry into full time Manospheria, a snippet of advice came under my notice while reading this afternoon. I cannot in good conscience refrain from passing it on.
. . .Halfway through supper Prince Andrew leaned his elbows on the table, and with a look of nervous agitation such as Pierre had never before seen on his face, began to talk–as one who has long had something on his mind and suddenly determines to speak out.
“Never, never marry, my dear fellow! That’s my advice: never marry till you can say to yourself that you have done all you are capable of, and until you have ceased to love the woman of you choice and have sen her plainly as she is, or else you will make a cruel and irrevocable mistake. Marry when you are old and good for nothing–or all that is good and noble in you will be lost. It will all be lost on trifles. Yes! Yes! Yes! Don’t look at me with such surprise. If you marry expecting anything from yourself in the future you will feel at every step that for you all is ended, all is closed except the drawing room, where you will be ranged side by side with a court lackey and an idiot!. . . But what’s the good?”. . . and he waved his arm.
Pierre took of his spectacles, which made his face seem different and the good-natured expression still more apparent, and gazed at his friend in amazement.
“My wife,” continued Prince Andrew, “is an excellent woman, one of those rare women with whom a man’s honor is safe; but O God, what would I not give now to be unmarried! You are the first and only one to whom I mention this, because I like you.”
. . .
“You don’t understand why I say this,” he continued, “but it is the whole story of life. You talk of Bonaparte and his career,” said he–though Pierre had not mentioned Bonaparte, “but Bonaparte when he worked went step by step toward his goal. He was free, he had nothing but his aim to consider, and he reached it. But tie yourself up with a woman, and like a chained convict you lose all freedom! And all you have of hope and strength merely weighs you down and torments you with regret. Drawing rooms, gossip, balls, vanity, and triviality–these are the enchanted circle I cannot escape from. I am now going to the war, the greatest war there ever was, and I know nothing and am fit for nothing. I am very amiable to have a caustic wit,” continued Prince Andrew, “and at Anna Pavlovna’s they listen to me. And that stupid set without whom my wife cannot exist, and those women. . . If you only knew what those society women are, and women in general! My father is right. Selfish, vain, stupid, trivial in everything–that’s what women are when you see them in their true colors! When you meet them in society it seems as if there were something in them, but there’s nothing, nothing, nothing! No, don’t marry, my dear fellow; don’t marry.”
—War And Peace, Lev Tolstoy
Is it any wonder that such plain and good-natured truths are couched under the veil on contextual and literary criticism–these studies and those studies. Were one to read plainly such things how could the walls of lies remain unbroken. heh.
Veritas numquam perit,