Today I am aware of my lineage. I have no need to consult my horoscope or. my genealogical chart. What is written in the stars, or in my blood, I know nothing of. I know that I spring from the mythological founders of the race. The man who raises the holy bottle to his lips, the criminal who kneels in the marketplace, the innocent one who discovers that all corpses stink, the madman who dances with lightning in his hands, the friar who lifts his skirts to pee over the world, the fanatic who ransacks libraries in order to find the Word - all these are fused in me, all these make my confusion, my ecstasy. If I am inhuman it is because my world has slopped over its human bounds, because to be human seems like a poor, sorry, miserable affair, limited by the senses, restricted by moralities and codes, defined by platitudes and isms. I am pouring the juice of the grape down my guliet and I find wisdom in it, but my wisdom is not born of the grape, my intoxication owes nothing to wine...

I want to make a detour of those lofty arid mountain ranges where one dies of thirst and cold, that 'extra-temporal' history, that absolute of time and space where there exists neither man, beast, nor vegetation, where one goes crazy with loneliness, with language that is mere words, where everything is unhooked, ungeared, out of joint with the times. I want a world of men and women, of trees that do not talk (because there is too much talk in the world as it is), of rivers that carry you to places, not rivers that are legends, but rivers that put you in touch with other men and women, with architecre, religion, plants, animals - rivers that have boats on them and in which men drown, drown not in myth and legend and books and dust of the past, but in time and space and history.....

Let us have a world of men and women, with dynamos between their legs, a world of natural fury, of passion, action, drama, dremas, madness, a world that produces ecstasy and not dry farts....

Let the dead eat the dead. Let us living ones dance about the rim of the crater, a last expiring dance. But a dance !