Tragedy On The Stage Is

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.

I Have Need Of Angels. Enough Hell Has Swallowed Me For Too Many Years. But Finally Understand This--i Have Burned Up One Hundred Thousand Human Lives Already, From The Strength Of My Pain.

I Call For Actors Burning At The Stakes, Laughing At The Flames.

It Is Thus That The Few Rare Lucid Well-disposed People Who Have Had To Struggle On The Earth Find Themselves At Certain Hours Of The Day Or Night In The Depth Of Certain Authentic And Waking Nightmare States, Surrounded By The Formidable Suction, The Formidable Oppression Of A Kind Of Civic Magic Which Will Soon Be Seen Appearing Openly In Social Behavior.

When We Speak The Word 'life,' It Must Be Understood We Are Not Referring To Life As We Know It From Its Surface Of Fact, But To That Fragile, Fluctuating Center Which Forms Never Reach.