The writer asks himself, 'Can I think of a plot that will parallel this? Can I take this work of literature as an example of something I might produce?' Let us, then, consider literature as a productive science.
The finder of his theme will be at no loss for words.
I like the trivial, vulgar and exalted.
This Humanist whom no beliefs constrained Grew so broad-minded he was scatter-brained.
What demon is our god? What name subsumes That act external to our sleeping selves? Not pleasure it is much too broad and narrow , Not sex, not for the moment love, but pride, And not in prowess, but pride undefined, Autonomous in its unthought demands, A bit of vanity, but mostly pride.
Naked I came, naked I leave the scene
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