A lunatic, according to its true definition,
is he who is possessed by an amorous intoxication with the moon:
In other words, with the unconscious motive principle of all Life on earth.
To others, he can be identified as he who dances to, what is to them, an
inaudible, non-existent tune. In reality, his jig is as inwardly necessary as
are the fields of hops at their annual time of rebirth. Meddling with its
natural course can cause tidal waves big enough to drown a seahorse.
For he still carries the strength, that others have lost, for wild flights of
ecstasy, home-brewed by his own gallant imagination. He would repudiate
the very dirt we walk on if it stirs not the desire in his breast. But in his
proud pursuit of self-realization comes abandonment to self-revelation, to
unflinching honesty in a world of war and deception, that makes him the
naked-infant-on-a-doorstep target of all well-trained busy-bodies,
conformity enforcers. How they long to divorce him from the warm light
of Nature's hearth! In his beautiful simplicity, this Noble Savage disregards
the wisdom of Christ's time-honoured tale, and asks against the entire tide
of human history, against the insipid simulacra of everyday thoughts and
gestures, against the stupid, iron-clad rules of the State, against the
nonsensical taboos of society, against every bitter betrayal that has
crushed the heart of man- simply to love and be loved for who he truly is.