I developed a passion for the Middle Ages the same way some people develop a passion for coconuts.
The Enlightenment, the Age of Reason, is seen as the beginning of modern depravity.
The monkish vows keep us far from that sink of vice that is the female body, but often they bring us close to other errors. Can I finally hide from myself the fact that even today my old age is still stirred by the noonday demon when my eyes, in choir, happen to linger on the beardless face of a novice, pure and fresh as a maidens?
