Sunday, 3 May 2009

The throne.

"Watch them clamber, these swift monkeys! They clamber over one another and thus drag one another into the mud and the depth. They all want to get to the throne: that is their madness- as if happiness sat on the throne. Often mud sits on the throne- and often also the throne on the mud. Mad they all appear to me, clambering monkeys and over ardent. Foul smells their idol, the cold monster: foul they smell to me altogether, these idolators."


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