He doesn't speak, the newborn? Why his entire being shouts out, "Don't touch me! Don't touch me!" And yet at the same time, imploringly, begging, "Don't leave me! Don't leave me!" This is birth. This is the torture, the Calvary.

215

These feet which kick furiously, legs which bend in to protect a tender stomach. This flesh which is but a mass of spasms, starts and shakes.

165

These hands which stretch out, implore, beg, then rise to the head in a gesture of calamity.

131

This howling mouth, this head which rolls back and tries to escape.

128

This tragic brow, these closed eyes, eyebrows raised and knotted.

118