In Our Present State Of Degeneration It

I Prefer The People Who Eat Off The Bare Earth The Delirium From Which They Were Born.

I Do Not Like Detached Creation. Neither Can I Conceive Of The Mind As Detached From Itself. Each Of My Works, Each Diagram Of Myself, Each Glacial Flowering Of My Inmost Soul Dribbles Over Me.

So Long As We Have Failed To Eliminate Any Of The Causes Of Human Despair, We Do Not Have The Right To Try To Eliminate Those Means By Which Man Tries To Cleanse Himself Of Despair.

When We Speak The Word 'life,' It Must Be Understood We Are Not Referring To Life As We Know It From Its Surface Of Fact, But To That Fragile, Fluctuating Center Which Forms Never Reach.

There Is In Every Madman A Misunderstood Genius Whose Idea, Shining In His Head, Frightened People, And For Whom Delirium Was The Only Solution To The Strangulation That Life Had Prepared For Him.