Ana

"Today I am aware of my lineage. I have no need to consult my horoscope or my geneological chart, what is written in the stars, or in my blood I know nothing of. I know I spring from the mythologival founders of the race. The man who raises the holy bottle to his lips, the criminal who kneels in the market place, the innocent one who discovers that all corpses stink, the madman who dances with lightning in his hands, the friar who lifts his skirts to pee over the world, the fanatic who ramsacks libraries in order to find the Word- all these are fused in me, all these make my confusion, my ectasy. If I am inhuman it is because my world has slopped over its human bounds, because to be human seems like a poor, sorry, miserable afair, limited by the senses, restricted by moralities and codes, defined by platitudes and isms. I am pouring the juice of the grape down my gullet and I find wisdom in it, but my wisdom is not burn of the grape, my intoxication owes nothing to wine...". Henry Miller, Tropic of Cancer