Madness string 35210

Random mermaid
It helps, you know. Saying things. Repeating things. Old thoughts. Old memories. Throw off the dark man in the open cloud. He's young. Doesn't see. Doesn't remember. Doesn't understand. It's all mad to him. There's solace in madness. Solace in madness.
And all the time - such is a tragi-comedy of our situation - we continue to clamour for those very qualities we are rendering impossible. You can hardly open a periodical without coming across the statement that what our civilization needs is more 'drive', or dynamism, or self-sacrifice, or 'creativity'. In a sort of ghastly simplicity we remove the organ and demand the function. We make men without chests and expect of them virtue and enterprise. We laugh at honour and are shocked to find traitors in our midst. We castrate and bid the geldings be fruitful.