Revisitant El candelabro de los siete
brazos (PSALMOS) de Rafael Cansinos Assens, uns petits
extractes que dedico a la amiga Irmixka, en qui per alguna associació misteriosa he pensat llegint-los i com a torna del seuapunt.
Grazie ancora.
Baci bella!
El
reproche a los amigos
(autoretret,
també...)
Alef
Veo
a los amigos que un día hicieron conmigo el prodigioso viaje de la juventud y
los hallo cambiados y desconocidos: la sombra de un cuidado se extiende sobre
sus frentes y, con la vista baja, parecen avergonzarse de haber sido jovenes un
día.
En aquel tiempo, ya lejano, parecían tener
alas y exhalaban un álito de fuego por sus ávidas bocas; sus frebte
resplandecian como altas tiaras.
...
Bet
En otro tiempo, se mostraron bellos y
audaces sobre la tierra, nueva para sus pies; reunían el valor y la gracia y
sus cabelleras largas descendían sobre sus hombros como las ondas de un óleo
dorado.
...
Vav
...
Siempre libre y fugaz, no he ofrecido mi
mano a ningún lazo; ni he arrojado al agua un áncora pesada.
Y siempre ligero, ingenuo y aturdido, sin
cuentas en los dedos, sin fines ni caminos, soy para los hombres graves como un
recuerdo de la juventud.
Retornem a Contra tota esperança, que vàrem guardar ben a prop per tenir-la a mà. El xàfec que ens cau aquests dies, més intensperò el mateix xàfec de sempre, el que hem viscut tantes vegades al llarg de la nostra història, ens ha portat a revisitar aquest llibre d'algú que va viure en un xàfec de terror i humiliació gairebé tota la vida. Per allò de relativitzar...
Allà, darrere filferro espinós,
al cor mateix de la taigà,
porten la meva ombra a interrogar, ...
Anna Akhmàtova
En la única cosa que es podia confiar era en la pròpia resistència i en la disciplina. Renuncia a l'esperança, espera la mort i no perdis la dignitat humana.
A mi, un cop sola, el que més m'ha sostingut sempre ha estat la frase de l'Óssip: ¿Perquè se t'ha ficat al cap que has de ser feliç? i també les paraules de l'arxiprest Avvakum. A la seva defallida esposa que li preguntava: ¿Fins quan haurem encara de caminar així, arxiprest?, el marit li va contestar: Fins a la tomba, esposa d'un popa, i la dona es va aixecar i va continuar caminant.
Nadejda Mandelstam
...I per mantenir, ferms, el coratge i l'objectiu.
"SILENTIUM!"
No ha pas vingut encara al món,
alhora música i paraula,
en cada cosa viva es guarda,
per ella tot es correspon.
El pit del mar, tranquil, respira, prô el dia es torna boig de llum, i, lila pàl·lida, s'esmuny l'escuma al vas d'aiguamarina.
Que la puresa original, com una nota crital·lina, toqui els meus llavis algun dia amb el silenci virginal.
Resta, Afrodita, escuma viva, que tornin a ser un aire els mots, i aprèn, oh cor, d'un altre cor, fos amb l'origen de la vida!
t'khià (no117), de la mà de salsa-ficció (no116), dona la má a El cinquè vagó(no 118) en la cadena de blogs per la independència.
Sabem amb certesa de molts catalans a qui hauria agradat participar en la Via catalana per la independència però no podran. A t'khià us proposem estendre-li la mà a algún d'ells per fer-los simbòlicament presents. En el nostre cas hem pensat en la Maria Àngels Anglada, que de
ben segur estaria orgullosa i emocionada de participar-hi. I al pare, que potser hauria perdut la por endèmica dels vençuts.
A la seva memòria.
Quan
el nostre poble es retrobarà
Quan
dits d'alba trauran estranys vels del seu rostre, estols
de mots nous naixeran. Per cingleres de llavis les síl•labes
trescaran com els ràpids isards.
Vell jardí tant de temps emmurat entre tanques,
a milers els penjolls d'unes noves, vermelles cireres
dringaran tot just nades i sé que les mans
que s'hi allarguin mai més no seran decebudes.
No em pregunteu si ho veurem, ans amb mi celebreu-ho
per endavant. Us ho dic amb frisança
i alabastre de vol que m'espolsa
aquest pòsit d'antiga tristesa a les ales.
Maria
Àngels Anglada
El
poble erra perdut
El
poble erra perdut.
L'han esbrancat a còpia de derrotes,
se n’ha aprimat l'alè,
s'ha eixamplat l'esvoranc
que n'afebleix la idea.
Ara aprèn dels seus límits,
escolta el seu batec,
fidel a si mateix,
s'avesa a altres mirades
des del saber
dels dies
i les morts.
L'error és tan antic
com l'aigua.
Escolta,
el poble recomença,
l'esforç és persistent,
no expira la paraula,
respecta el traç de cada veu.
De la cua oscilant de lectures pendents finalment li ha arribat el torn a Victus, de l'Albert Sanchez Piñol. Ens sap greu haver-la fet esperar tant, perquè de seguida ens ha enganxat. Si en parlem, però, no és per qüestions literàries, que ja ho han fet d'altres infinitament millor del que ho fariem aquí, sinó per aquest fragment:
Al món no hi ha res que distorsioni tant la realitat com el pànic. Si no era conscient de la meva por, la por hi veuria en lloc meu. O, com diuen els Ducroix: "La por li pujarà fins als ulls i hi veurà enlloc seu".
La remor de
l’aigua de la font de l’avi,
de plaça (avui amb purins). Les remors vegetals al nostre
pas. La remor dels àlbers acaronats pel vents que t’acompanyaven pel
camí i,
des d’aleshores, tots els àlbers i les seves remors i les seves fulles
tremoloses. I més remors de més arbres, pins, alzines potser i d’altres
dels que no en sabem el nom. Lleus remors als carrers buits de les
tardes al cor de l’estiu. Remors de grills. Remors domèstiques. Entre
tantes altres
remors.
Per
estirar les
cames i airejar-nos, res de senderisme, refem un vell camí i ens
retrobem amb aquesta petita geografia
vital, parcial i total alhora, i ho pensem, ho sentim, ho constatem i,
ara aquí
ho documentem i ho deixem negre sobre blanc -i amb il·lustracions-, com
un d'aquests patrimonis (gairebé) intangibles que, juntament
amb el dels afectes, són els únics patrimonis que, malgrat no ens els
endurem,
tampoc no ens els podran prendre.
EL FULLAM DE
L’ÀLBER
El riu brillant, la Prada repintada
Contemplen, àlber,
ton fullam joliu.
-És verd –ha dit
la teva mare Prada.
-Oh, no, d’argent
–ha dit ton pare Riu.
Josep Carner
Me l’ha trobat la
mare. Gràcies!
Com
que l'estirada de cames l'hem feta, gràcies a la nostra vocació
excursionista, en xancletes i calça curta, a la font de la teula hi
anirem un altre dia... Aquest n'és el camí vist des de la font de plaça.
Une floretes que ens hem trobat pel camí, no ens en demaneu el nom, per la Miraculosa.
I aquestes pel Capità |-)
Altres remors que ens hem trobat pel camí:
I aquesta per la col·lecció. No és el meu pols, és la lluna que vibra...
Buscant àlbers per la xarxa hem trobat aquest superlatiu blog, que és el més important que heu de treure d'aquest apunt. No us en perdeu cap racó.
Aquest enllaç ja no és actiu. L'autor del bòmit ha retirat l'escampall. O li han fet retirar... Però als comentaris el trobareu gràcies al documentat Capità.
És el setanta-cinquè aniversari de Bianca Castafiore, La Gran Diva i devota admiradora del Capità Haddock, com nosaltres. Admiradors, no dives... Per molts anys, Bravissima!
Volem aprofitar l'ocasió per despertar el Capità de la seva letargia, tot recordant-li que al país hi van passant coses i necessitem referents com el seu, que trobem a faltar.
Desconeixia les
bignònies fins que les vaig descobrir en aquest poema de la Marta Pessarrodona i que avui he
recordat al trobar-les en el bodegó del blog d'en Llorens Ferri que il·lustra aquest apunt.
Al l'article Això de l'estiu... de Víctor Sunyol, a El 9 nou d'aquest divendres, nou d'agost, critica l'actitud dominat a l'estiu respecte la lectura i la cultura en general. Això de guardar-se les lectures que demanen més temps i atenció per l'estiu i quan aquest arriba deixar-les perquè no s'està per pensar.
Es a dir: quan no és estiu, com que la feina ens ocupa molt de temps i ens atabala, no podem dedicar-nos a allò que ens enriqueix, forma i fa pensar. I quan és estiu, com que estem de vacances, tampoc. Fantàstic.
Si no volem morir, potser que repenséssim això de "lectures d'estiu" o "activitats light estiuenques". Si no, estarem distrets, sí, però morts per dins.
Doncsbé, a t'khià ens ho prenem al peu de la lletra i proposem treballar-nosmultidisciplinàriament. De la mà de Fragmenta, Lluís Duch i Josep Barcons per un costat, amb aquesta ediciódel libretto Moisès i Aarond'Arnold Schönbergamb una extensa i documentada introducció i de l'altra amb una versió de l'òpera dirigida per Willy Decker.
El país l'any passat es va mobilitzar a Barcelona, ara demanem que
Barcelona es desplaci i demostrem que som un país. Estem contents,
però hem de ser molts més.
Carme Forcadell
A un servidor la cadena li passa per davant de casa a Barcelona, però se'n va a un tram de Caldes de Malavella.
Acabo de recordar una anècdota, no sé si mite urbà o real, que em sembla que us abellirà. La recordo una mica vagament explicada per l'amiga Irmixka, que ja me la corregirà si m'erro i si era mite o no. Això era un sopar d'aquests que ara s'en diuen multiculturals on bona part dels comensals venien de països que havien patit règims totalitaris de diferents signes. En un moment de la conversa surten a col·lació la repressió que podien provocar autèntiques nimietats. En aquest punt un català explica que al seu pare el van tancar per penjar una senyera, però, en mig de l'alleugiment general, doncs van ser només unes hores, una nouvinguda que encara no dominava els matisos de la llengua pregunta astorada:
-Ah! La senyora no murió?-
En fi, se non è vero, è ben trobato, oi?
Us deixo amb una altra senyora, que no és la senyora de la foto que fa cara d'acabar de sentir les últimes males excuses (i van...) d'en Rajoy, però que s'hi podria assemblar molt...
Aquesta setmana he tornat a veure The fountainhead, la pel·lícula basada en el llibre del mateix títol d'Ayn Rand, amb aquest superlatiu speech final que tal com l'he trobat el planto:
“Thousands of years ago, the first man discovered
how to make fire. He was probably burned at the stake he had taught his
brothers to light. He was considered an evildoer who had dealt with a demon
mankind dreaded. But thereafter men had fire to keep them warm, to cook their
food, to light their caves. He had left them a gift they had not conceived and
he had lifted dardness off the earth. Centuries later, the first man invented
the wheel. He was probably torn on the rack he had taught his brothers to
build. He was considered a transgressor who ventured into forbidden terrritory.
But thereafter, men could travel past any horizon. He had left them a gift they
had not conceived and he had opened the roads of the world.
“That man, the unsubmissive and first, stands in
the opening chapter of every legend mankind has recorded about its beginning. Prometheus
was chained to a rock and torn by vultures—because he had stolen the fire of
the gods. Adam was condemned to suffer—because he had eaten the fruit of the
tree of knowledge. Whatever the legend, somewhere in the shadows of its memory
mankind knew that its glory began with one and that that one paid for his
courage.
“Throughout the centuries there were men who took
first steps down new roads armed with nothing but their own vision. Their goals
differed, but they all had this in common: that the step was first, the road
new, the vision unborrowed, and the response they received—hatred. The great
creators—the thinkers, the artists, the scientists, the inventors—stood alone
against the men of their time. Every great new thought was opposed. Every great
new invention was denounced. The first motor was considered foolish. The
airplane was considered impossible. The power loom was considered vicious.
Anesthesia was considered sinful. But the men of unborrowed vision went ahead.
They fought, they suffered and they paid. But they won.
“No creator was prompted by a desire to serve his
brothers, for his brothers rejected the gift he offered and that gift destroyed
the slothful routine of their lives. His truth was his only motive. His own
truth, and his own work to achieve it in his own way. A symphony, a book, an
engine, a philosophy, an airplane or a building—that was his goal and his life.
Not those who heard, read, operated, believed, flew or inhabited the thing he
had created. The creation, not its users. The creation, not the benefits others
derived from it. The creation which gave form to his truth. He held his truth
above all things and against all men.
“His vision, his strength, his courage came from
his own spirit. A man's spirit, however, is his self. That entity which is his
consciousness. To think, to feel, to judge, to act are functions of the ego.
“The creators were not selfless. It is the whole
secret of their power—that it was self-sufficient, self-motivated,
self-generated. A first cause, a fount of energy, a life force, a Prime Mover. The
creator served nothing and no one. He lived for himself.
“And only by living for himself was he able to
achieve the things which are the glory of mankind. Such is the nature of
achievement.
“Man cannot survive except through his mind. He
comes on earth unarmed. His brain is his only weapon. Animals obtain food by
force. Man has no claws, no fangs, no horns, no great strength of muscle. He
must plant his food or hunt it. To plant, he needs a process of thought. To
hunt, he needs weapons, and to make weapons—a process of thought. From this
simplest necessity to the highest religious abstraction, from the wheel to the
skyscraper, everything we are and everything we have comes from a single
attribute of man—the function of his reasoning mind.
“But the mind is an attribute of the individual.
There is no such thing as a collective brain. There is no such thing as a
collective thought. An agreement reached by a group of men is only a compromise
or an average drawn upon many individual thoughts. It is a secondary
consequence. The primary act—the process of reason—must be performed by each
man alone. We can divide a meal among many men. We cannot digest it in a
collective stomach. No man can use his lungs to breathe for another man. No man
can use his brain to think for another. All the functions of body and spirit
are private. They cannot be shared or transferred.
“We inherit the products of the thought of other
men. We inherit the wheel. We make a cart. The cart becomes an automobile. The
automobile becomes an airplane. But all through the process what we receive
from others is only the end product of their thinking. The moving force is the
creative faculty which takes this product as material, uses it and originates
the next step. This creative faculty cannot be given or received, shared or
borrowed. It belongs to single, individual men. That which it creates is the
property of the creator. Men learn from one another. But all learning is only
the exchange of material. No man can give another the capacity to think. Yet
that capacity is our only means of survival.
“Nothing is given to man on earth. Everything he
needs has to be produced. And here man faces his basic alternative: he can
survive in only one of two ways—by the independent work of his own mind or as a
parasite fed by the minds of others. The creator originates. The parasite
borrows. The creator faces nature alone. The parasite faces nature through an
intermediary.
“The creator’s concern is the conquest of nature.
The parasite’s concern is the conquest of men.
“The creator lives for his work. He needs no
other men. His primary goal is within himself. The parasite lives second-hand.
He needs others. Others become his prime motive.
“The basic need of the creator is independence.
The reasoning mind cannot work under any form of compulsion. It cannot be
curbed, sacrificed or subordinated to any consideration whatsoever. It demands
total independence in function and in motive. To a creator, all relations with
men are secondary.
“The basic need of the second-hander is to secure
his ties with men in order to be fed. He places relations first. He declares
that man exists in order to serve others. He preaches altruism.
“Altruism is the doctrine which demands that man
live for others and place others above self.
“No man can live for another. He cannot share his
spirit just as he cannot share his body. But the second-hander has used
altruism as a weapon of expoloitation and reversed the base of mankind’s moral
principles. Men have been taught every precept that destroys the creator. Men
have been taught dependence as a virtue.
“The man who attemps to live for others is a
dependent. He is a parasite in motive and makes parasites of those he serves. The
relationship produces nothing but mutual corruption. It is impossible in
concept. The nearest approach to it in reality—the man who lives to serve
others—is the slave. If physical slavery is repulsive, how much more repulsive
is the concept of servility of the spirit? The conquered slave has a vestige of
honor. He has the merit of having resisted and of considering his condition
evil. But the man who enslaves himself voluntarily in the name of love is the
basest of creatures. He degrades the dignity of man and he degrades the
conception of love. But this is the essence of altruism.
“Men have been taught that the highest virtue is
not to achieve, but to give. Yet one cannot give that which has not been
created. Creation comes before distribution—or there will be nothing to
distribute. The need of the creator comes before the need of any possible
beneficiary. Yet we are taught to admire the second-hander who dispenses gifts
he has not produced above the man who made the gifts possible. We praise an act
of charity. We shrug at an act of achievement.
“Men have been taught that their first concern is
to relieve the sufferings of others. But suffering is a disease. Should one
come upon it, one tries to give relief and assistance. To make that the highest
test of virtue is to make suffering the most important part of life. Then man
must wish to see others suffer—in order that he may be virtuous. Such is the
nature of altruism. The creator is not concerned with disease, but with life. Yet
the work of the creators has eliminated one form of disease after another, in
man’s body and spirit, and brought more relief from suffering than any altruist
could ever conceive.
“Men have been taught that it is a virtue to
agree with others. But the creator is the man who disagrees. Men have been
taught that it is a virtue to swim with the current. But the creator is the man
who goes against the current. Men have been taught that it is a virtue to stand
together. But the creator is the man who stands alone.
“Men have been taught that the ego is the synonym
of evil, and selflessness the ideal of virtue. But the creator is the egotist
in the absolute sense, and the selfless man is the one who does not think,
feel, judge or act. These are functions of the self.
“Here the basic reversal is most deadly. The issue
has been perverted and man has been left no alternative—and no freedom. As
poles of good and evil, he was offered two conceptions: egotism and altruism. Egotism
was held to mean the sacrifice of others to self. Altruism—the sacrifice of
self to others. This tied man irrevocably to other men and left him nothing but
a choice of pain: his own pain borne for the sake of others or pain inflicted
upon others for the sake of self. When it was added that man must find joy in
self-immolation, the trap was closed. Man was forced to accept masochism as his
ideal—under the threat that sadism was his only alternative. This was the
greatest fraud ever perpetrated on mankind.
“This was the device by which dependence and
suffering were perpetuated as fundamentals of life.
“The choice is not self-sacrifice or domination.
The choice is independence or dependence. The code of the creator or the code
of the second-hander. This is the basic issue. It rests upon the alternative of
life or death. The code of the creator is built on the needs of the reasoning
mind which allows man to survive. The code of the second-hander is built on the
needs of a mind incapable of survival. All that which proceeds from man’s
independent ego is good. All that which proceeds from man’s dependence upon men
is evil.
“The egotist is the absolute sense is not the man
who sacrifices others. He is the man who stands above the need of using others
in any manner. He does not function through them. He is not concerned with them
in any primary matter. Not in his aim, not in his motive, not in his thinking,
not in his desires, not in the source of his energy. He does not exist for any
other man—and he asks no other man to exist for him. This is the only form of
brotherhood and mutual respect possible between men.
“Degrees of ability vary, but the basic principle
remains the same: the degree of a man’s independence, initiative and personal
love for his work determines his talent as a worker and his worth as a man. Independence
is the only gauge of human virtue and value. What a man is and makes of
himself; not what he has or hasn’t done for others. There is no substitute for
personal dignity. There is no standard of personal dignity except independence.
“In all proper relationships there is no
sacrifice of anyone to anyone. An architect needs clients, but he does not
subordinate his work to their wishes. They need him, but they do not order a
house just to give him a commission. Men exchange their work by free, mutual
consent to mutual advantage when their personal interests agree and they both
desire the exchange. If they do not desire it, they are not forced to deal with
each other. They seek further. This is the only possible form of relationship
between equals. Anything else is a relation of slave to master, or victim to
executioner.
“No work is ever done collectively, by a majority
decision. Every creative job is achieved under the guidance of a single
individual thought. An architect requires a great many men to erect his building.
But he does not ask them to vote on his design. They work together by free
agreement and each is free in his proper function. An architect uses steel,
glass, concrete, produced by others. But the materials remain just so much
steel, glass and concrete until he touches them. What he does with them is his
individual product and his individual property. This is the only pattern for
proper co-operation among men.
“The first right on earth is the right of the
ego. Man’s first duty is to himself. His moral law is never to place his prime
goal within the persons of others. His moral obligation is to do what he
wishes, provided his wish does not depend primarily
upon other men. This includes the whole sphere of his creative faculty, his
thinking, his work. But it does not include the sphere of the gangster, the
altruist and the dictator.
“A man thinks and works alone. A man cannot rob,
exploit or rule—alone. Robbery, exploitation and ruling presuppose victims.
They imply dependence. They are the province of the second-hander.
“Rulers of men are not egotists. They create
nothing. They exist entirely through the persons of others. Their goal is in
their subjects, in the activity of enslaving. They are as dependent as the
beggar, the social worker and the bandit. The
form of dependence does not matter.
“But men were taught to regard
second-handers—tyrants, emperors, dictators—as exponents of egotism. By this
fraud they were made to destroy the ego, themselves and others. The purpose of
the fraud was to destroy the creators. Or to harness them. Which is a synonym.
“From the beginning of history, the two
antagonists have stood face to face: the creator and the second-hander. When
the first creator invented the wheel, the first second-hander responded. He
invented altruism.
“The creator—denied, opposed, persecuted,
exploited—went on, moved forward and carried all humanity along on his energy.
The second-hander contributed nothing to the process except the impediments.
The contest has another name: the individual against the collective.
“The ‘common good’ of a collective—a race, a
class, a state—was the claim and justification of every tyranny ever
established over men. Every major horror of history was committed in the name
of an altruistic motive. Has any act of selfishness ever equaled the carnage
perpetrated by disciples of altruism? Does the fault lie in men’s hypocrisy or
in the nature of the principle? The most dreadful butchers were the most
sincere. They believed in the perfect society reached through the guillotine
and the firing squad. Nobody questioned their right to murder since they were
murdering for an altruistic purpose. It was accepted that man must be
sacrificed for other men. Actors change, but the course of the tragedy remains
the same. A humanitarian who starts with declarations of love for mankind and
ends with a sea of blood. It goes on and will go on so long as men believe that
an action is good if it is unselfish. That permits the altruist to act and
forces his victims to bear it. The leaders of collectivist movements ask
nothing for themselves. But observe the results.
“The only good which men can do to one another
and the only statement of their proper relationship is—Hands off!
“Now observe the results of a society built on
the principle of individualism. This, our country. The noblest country in the
history of men. The country of greatest achievement, greatest prosperity,
greatest freedom. This country was not based on selfless service, sacrifice,
renunciation or any precept of altruism. It was based on a man’s right to the
pursuit of happiness. His own happiness. Not anyone else’s. A private,
personal, selfish motive. Look at the results. Look into your own conscience.
“It is an ancient conflict. Men have come close
to the truth, but it was destroyed each time and one civilization fell after
another. Civilization is the progress toward a society of privacy. The savage’s
whole existence is public, ruled by the laws of his tribe. Civilization is the
process of setting man free from men.
“Now, in our age, collectivism, the rule of the
second-hander and second-rater, the ancient monster, has broken loose and is
running amuck. It has brought men to a level of intellectual indecency never
equaled on earth. It has reached a scale of horror without precedent. It has
poisoned every mind. It has swallowed most of Europe. It is engulfing our
country.
“I am an architect. I know what is to come by the
principle on which it is built. We are approaching a world in which I cannot
permit myself to live.
“Now you know why I dynamited Cortlandt.
“I designed Cortlandt. I gave it to you. I
destroyed it.
“I destroyed it because I did not choose to let
it exist. It was a double monster. In form and in implication. I had to blast
both. The form was mutilated by two second-handers who assumed the right to
improve upon that which they had not made and could not equal. They were
permitted to do it by the general implication that the altruistic purpose of the
building superseded all rights and that I had no claim to stand against it.
“I agreed to design Cortlandt for the purpose of
seeing it erected as I dedigned it and for no other reason. That was the price
I set for my work. I was not paid.
“I do not blame Peter Keating. He was helpless.
He had a contract with his employers. It was ignored. He had a promise that the
structure he offered would be built as designed. The promise was broken. The
love of a man for the integrity of his work and his right to preserve it are
now considered a vague intangible and an inessential. You have heard the
prosecutor say that. Why was the building disfigured? For no reason. Such acts
never have any reason, unless it’s the vanity of some second-handers who feel
they have a right to anyone’s property, spiritual or material. Who permitted
them to do it? No particular man among the dozens in authority. No one cared to
permit it or to stop it. No one was responsible. No one can be held to account.
Such is the nature of all collective action.
“I did not receive the payment I asked. But the
owners of Cortlandt got what they needed from me. They wanted a scheme devised
to build a structure as cheaply as possible. They found no one else who could
do it to their satisfaction. I could and did. They took the benefit of my work
and made me contribute it as a gift. But I am not an altruist. I do not
contribute gifts of this nature.
“It is said that I have destroyed the home of the
destitute. It is forgotten that but for me the destitute could not have had
this particular home. Those who were concerned with the poor had to come to me,
who have never been concerned, in order to help the poor. It is believed that
the poverty of the future tenants gave them the right to my work. That their
need constituted a claim on my life. That it was my duty to contribute anything
demanded of me. This is the second-hander’s credo now swallowing the world.
“I came here to say that I do not recognize
anyone’s right to one minute of my life. Nor to any part of my energy. Nor to
any achievement of mine. No matter who makes the claim, how large their number
or how great their need.
“I wished to come here and say that I am a man
who does not exist for others.
“It had to be said. The world is perishing from
an orgy of self-sacrificing.
“I wished to come here and say that the integrity
of a man’s creative work is of greater importance than any charitable endeavor.
Those of you who do not understand this are the men who’re destroying the
world.
“I wished to come here and state my terms. I do
not care to exist on any others.
“I recognize no obligations toward men except
one: to respect their freedom and to take no part in a slave society. To my
country, I wish to give the ten years which I will spend in jail if my country
exists no longer. I will spend them in memory and in gratitude for what my
country has been. It will be my act of loyalty, my refusal to live or work in
what has taken its place.
“My act of loyalty to every creator who ever
lived and was made to suffer by the force responsible for the Cortlandt I
dynamited. To every tortured hour of loneliness, denial, frustration, abuse he
was made to spend—and to the battles he won. To every creator whose name is known—and
to every creator who lived, struggled and perished unrecognized before he could
achieve. To every creator who was destroyed in body or in spirit. To Henry
Cameron. To Steven Mallory. To a man who doesn’t want to be named, but who is
sitting in this courtroom and knows that I am speaking of him.”