“To Henry: Please understand Henry, that I’m in full rebellion against my own mind, that when I live, I live by impulse, by emotion, by white heat. June understood that. My mind didn’t exist when we walked insanely through Paris, oblivious to people, to time, to place, to others. It didn’t exist when I first read Dostoevsky in my hotel room and laughed and cried together and couldn’t sleep, and didn’t know where I was. But afterwards, understand me, I make the tremendous effort to rise again, not to wallow any more, not to go on just suffering or burning. Why should I make such an effort? Because I have a fear of being like June exactly. I have a feeling against complete chaos. I want to be able to live with June in utter madness, but I also want to be able to understand afterwards, to grasp what I’ve lived through.” [1932].
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