Irony Gives Us, At Little

Sometimes The House Of The Future Is Better Built, Lighter And Larger Than All The Houses Of The Past, So That The Image Of The Dream House Is Opposed To That Of The Childhood Home. Late In Life, With Indomitable Courage, We Continue To Say That We Are Going To Do What We Have Not Yet Done: We Are Going To Build A House. This Dream House May Be Merely A Dream Of Ownership, The Embodiment Of Everything That Is Considered Convenient, Comfortable, Healthy, Sound, Desirable, By Other People. It Must Therefore Satisfy Both Pride And Reason, Two Irreconcilable Terms.

It Is Quite Evident That A Barrier Must Be Cleared In Order To Escape The Psychologists And Enter Into A Realm Which Is Not "auto-observant", Where We Ourselves No Longer Divide Ourselves Into Observer And Observed. Then The Dreamer Is Completely Dissolved In His Reverie. His Reverie Is His Silent Life. It Is That Silent Peace Which The Poet Wants To Convey To Us.

Our House Is Our Corner Of The World.

We Comfort Ourselves By Reliving Memories Of Protection

Thanks To His Complex Convictions, Made Strong With The Forces Of Animus And Anima, The Alchemist Believes He Is Seizing The Soul Of The World, Participating In The Soul Of The World. Thus, From The World To The Man, Alchemy Is A Problem Of Souls.