It Has Been Asserted That

Subconsciously The Genius Is Feared As An Image Breaker; Frequently He Does Not Accept The Opinions Of The Mass, Or Man's Opinion Of Himself.

Man Is Dragged Hither And Thither, At One Moment By The Blind Instincts Of The Forest, At The Next By The Strange Intuitions Of A Higher Self Whose Rationale He Doubts And Does Not Understand.

Like The Herd Animals We Are, We Sniff Warily At The Strange One Among Us.

We Are Rag Dolls Made Out Of Many Ages And Skins, Changelings Who Have Slept In Wood Nests, And Hissed In The Uncouth Guise Of Waddling Amphibians. We Have Played Such Roles For Infinitely Longer Ages Than We Have Been Human. Our Identity Is A Dream. We Are Process, Not Reality.

Mind Is Locked In Matter Like The Spirit Ariel In A Cloven Pine. Like Ariel, Men Struggle To Escape The Drag Of The Matter They Inhabit, Yet It Is The Spirit That They Fear.