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Rh Who might you find you have come from yourself, if
 * you could trace back through the centuries?

A woman's body at auction! She too is not only herself—she is the teeming
 * mother of mothers,

She is the bearer of them that shall grow and be
 * mates to the mothers.

Her daughters, or their daughters' daughters—who
 * knows who shall mate with them?

Who knows through the centuries what heroes may
 * come from them?

In them, and of them, natal love—in them that
 * divine mystery, the same old beautiful mystery.

Have you ever loved the body of a woman? Have you ever loved the body of a man? Your father—where is your father? Your mother—is she living? have you been much
 * with her? and has she been much with you?

Do you not see that these are exactly the same to all,
 * in all nations and times, all over the earth?

If any thing is sacred, the human body is sacred, And the glory and sweet of a man, is the token of
 * manhood untainted,

And in man or woman, a clean, strong, firm-fibred
 * body, is beautiful as the most beautiful face.

Have you seen the fool that corrupted his own live
 * body? or the fool that corrupted her own live
 * body?