Great! I've Written Something Stupid, But I

Great! I've Written Something Stupid, But I Haven't Signed A Contract With Anyone To Produce Solely Wise And Perfect Works. I Gave Vent To My Stupidity...and Here I Am, Reborn.

If He [the Artist] Were To Take Up The Pen It Would Be...to Better Express His Individuality And Explain It To Others; Or Else To Put His Internal Affairs In Order...to Deepen And Sharpen His Relationship With His Fellow Men Because Other Souls Exert An Immense And Creative Influence On Our Soul; Or To Try To Fight For A World As He Would Like It To Be, For A World That Is Indispensable To His Life.

I Could Have Protested Of Course, Who Says I Couldn't--i Could Have Risen To My Feet At Any Moment, Walked Up To Them, And--no Matter How Difficult It Would Have Been--made It Abundantly Clear That I Was Not Seventeen But Thirty. I Could Have--yet I Couldn't Because I Didn't Want To, The Only Thing I Wanted Was To Prove That I Was Not An Old-fashioned Boy!

Beauty Beheld In Solitude Is Even More Lethal.

Against The Background Of General Freakishness The Case Of My Particular Freakishness Was Lost.