I read, or rather, tried to read a biographical analysis of Antero signed by a psychoanalyst and judged it so infamous, so frighteningly stupid and fake, that I was tempted to rebut it in a furious manifesto, since I cannot insult the author personally. Unbelievable! The imbecile wants to credit to childhood the resolution of a man half a century old! His entire “analysis” boils down to revolting slanders, painting a noble spirit as an inert slave. I think again, however, and give up the endeavor, as it is absolutely useless. What good would it do to waste my time trying to prove that a psychoanalyst is shallow and foolish? to prove that the offense begins with a being of this kind, limited by such a visor, spewing out hunches about the life of a superior man? What else could he write, after all, since shutting up is impossible for him? And it is not fair to demand from a quadruped the understanding of an Antero. The best, no doubt, is for me to set an example myself: I close the essay, shut up, and pretend he never existed.
It Is Not Fair to Demand From a Quadruped the Understanding of an Antero
