"Side by side with the human race there runs another race of beings, the inhuman ones, the race of artists who, goaded by unknown impulses take the lifeless mass of humanity and by the fever and ferment with which they imbue it turn this soggy dough into bread and the bread into wine and the wine into song. Out of the dead compost and the inert slag they breed a song that contaminates.
I see this other race of individuals ransacking the universe, turning everything upside down, their feet always moving in blood and tears, their hands always empty, always clutching and grasping for the beyond, for the god out of reach: slaying everything in reach in order to quiet the monster that gnaws at their vitals. I see that when they tear their hair with the effort to comprehend, to seize this forever unattainable, I see that when they bellow like crazed beasts and rip and gore, I see that this is right, that there is no other path to persue.
A man who belongs to this race must stand up on the high place with gibberish in his mouth and rip out his entrails. It is right and just because he must! And anything that falls short of this freightening spectacle, anything less shuddering, less terrifying, less mad, less intoxicated, less contaminating is not art. The rest is counterfeit. The rest is human. The rest belongs to life and lifelessness."
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'Τρελός' είναι συνήθως ο καλλιεργημένος άνθρωπος στα μάτια του ακαλλιέργητου.....Δεν θα μας κάνετε 'ρομποτάκια' ρε καριόληδες όσο και αν προσπαθείτε με την 'ψαράδικη' νοοτροπία σας και τα γραφικά επιχειρήματα σας...Είμαστε εξωγήινοι και θα 'ανοίξουμε' όσες περισσότερες καρδιές και μυαλά μπορούμε...Και μετά θα πάρουμε το spaceship και θα ξαναγυρίσουμε πίσω στον πλανήτη μας.
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