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Excerpt from an Argument with Enthusiasts, Concerning Inspiration I agree that something greatens us, but intelligence doesn't enter into it. At the moment I can calmly say that we turn certain switches, certain lights go on; that there are rational tricks to make things go away and things arrive. But with whatever brilliance in the middle of the night in whatever living-room we sit down and discuss what dead men know, things we can only intuit breathe in the room. The curtain fattens and collapses, swells again. Nobody hears his own voice right. The mind is flashy, yes, but take the stupid wind away and say what's left alive. Breathless is dead, however bright. H3 ...

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