On the Margin (1966)
“Apollo?” I guessed…
He put a finger to his lips. “I’m incognito. Call me Fred.”
A god named Fred?”
Source: The Titan's Curse
“Sometimes a person has to point fingers, disclose double standards, call a spade a spade.”
“Writing, to me, is simply thinking through my fingers.”
Source: City of Heavenly Fire
Voice: Young Man
1840s, Repetition (1843)
Context: One sticks one’s finger into the soil to tell by the smell in what land one is: I stick my finger in existence — it smells of nothing. Where am I? Who am I? How came I here? What is this thing called the world? What does this world mean? Who is it that has lured me into the world? Why was I not consulted, why not made acquainted with its manners and customs instead of throwing me into the ranks, as if I had been bought by a kidnapper, a dealer in souls? How did I obtain an interest in this big enterprise they call reality? Why should I have an interest in it? Is it not a voluntary concern? And if I am to be compelled to take part in it, where is the director? I should like to make a remark to him. Is there no director? Whither shall I turn with my complaint?
