Of All My Russian Books, The Defense

I Was Weeping Again, Drunk On The Impossible Past.

Freudism And All It Has Tainted With Its Grotesque Implications And Methods, Appear To Me To Be One Of The Vilest Deceits Practiced By People On Themselves And On Others. I Reject It Utterly, Along With A Few Other Medieval Items Still Adored By The Ignorant, The Conventional, Or The Very Sick.

For I Do Not Exist: There Exist But The Thousands Of Mirrors That Reflect Me.

I Mean, I Have The Feeling That Something In My Mind Is Poisoning Everything Else.

An Active And Creative Reader Is A Re-reader.