I think I've become more cynical about sex. Meaning, I don't think sex in and of itself leads to an epiphany.

Is there no Villain in this World who doth not regard himself as a poor abus'd Innocent, no She-Wolf who doth not think herself a Lamb, no Shark who doth not fancy that she is a Goldfish?

Sex is God's joke on the human race ... if we didn't have sex to make us ridiculous, She would have had to think up something else instead.

Once I worshipped Keats for dying young. Now I think it's braver to die old.