Only the drunks and the insane have discarded the unessential for chaos, and only in chaos there is richness.” “If you go on this way,” said Faustin, his finger pointing upward like a teacher of Sanskrit, “someone will have to take care of you while you spill in all directions recklessly. You’ll need taking care of, for yours is no real freedom but an illusion of freedom, or perhaps just rebellion. Chaos always turns out to be the greatest trap of all in which you’ll find yourself more securely imprisoned than anyone.” At the words “taking care” Jay had turned automatically towards Lillian and read in her eyes that fixed, immutable love which was his compass. When Faustin was there at the cafe conversation would always start at the top of a pyramid without any gradual ascension. It would start with the problems of form, being and becoming, physiognomics, destiny versus incident, the coming of the fungoid era, the middle brain and the tertiary moon!
