“Come,” he said, “you can’t be meaning to bury yourself. And she, she in her own person too, was this eternal Bios, beginning again its recurrent journey to selection and multiplication and failure or survival. She wrapped her legs about his hips as he raised himself upon straight arms, piercing her with his gaze as he thrust into her. After great exertions on both parts, the spike yielded to their combined strength, and snapped suddenly off. A garrison called to arms at dead of night on the sudden approach of the enemy, could not have been more expeditiously, or effectually aroused. The mighty concourse became for a moment still.
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