There Are Those Who Go To The

I Would Like To Write A Book Which Would Drive Men Mad, Which Would Be Like An Open Door Leading Them Where They Would Never Have Consented To Go, In Short, A Door That Opens Onto Reality.

There Are Souls That Are Incurable And Lost To The Rest Of Society. Deprive Them Of One Means Of Folly, They Will Invent Ten Thousand Others. They Will Create Subtler, Wilder Methods, Methods That Are Absolutely Desperate. Nature Herself Is Fundamentally Antisocial, It Is Only By A Usurpation Of Powers That The Organized Body Of Society Opposes The Natural Inclination Of Humanity.

All True Language Is Incomprehensible, Like The Chatter Of A Beggar's Teeth.

The Actor Is Merely A Crude Empiricist, A Practitioner Guided By Vague Instinct.

The Race Of Prophets Is Extinct. Europe Is Becoming Set In Its Ways, Slowly Embalming Itself Beneath The Wrappings Of Its Borders, Its Factories, Its Law-courts And Its Universities. The Frozen Mind Cracks Between The Mineral Staves Which Close Upon It.