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these fools are thought to be scientists, biologists, psychologists, and all kinds of things, but they are just imbeciles, idiots.
I should not use the same word, fool, for them. They are not ordinary fools, they are idiots. An idiot is a fool who cannot be cured. A fool is an idiot who is already on the path to recovery. But I cannot call these people fools; they are idiots.
This morning, talking about Dostoevsky's book I called it The Prince. Forgive me, it is not titled The Prince; that is my own title for it, on my own book. I have titled it The Prince but the printed title is The Idiot. I avoided mentioning the word idiot this morning because I wanted to make the distinction. The idiot is incurable. The fool is available, ready, ready to change. The idiot is hard, very hard. For anything to penetrate into the head of an idiot is impossible. An idiot's head is covered with steel, nothing can penetrate him. That is why I called the book The Prince.
I also remembered Mikhail Naimy's book The Book of Mirdad. That book is just unbelievable. I feel jealous of only one man, Mikhail Naimy. Jealous not in the ordinary sense, because I cannot feel jealous in that sense; jealous in the sense that he has written it already, otherwise I would write it. I would have written it... it is of the same heights I am flying to.
From these heights I can see the whole existence as a play, as celebration, without any reason or rhyme, without any meaning. Yes, that's what I would like you to know too. People celebrate Christmas; they should celebrate all the year round. To celebrate only once in a while simply shows that your life is not a life of celebration, it is not a joy.
Everyone can go mad except me because I am already mad. I have been mad for almost one fourth of a century, and if you all help me I may make the century. I can make it... not on my own; on my own I am just Humpty Dumpty, but if you all help me I can make the century very easily. My father lived seventy-five years; my father's father, eighty; my father's father's father, ninety. Why can't I beat them in this race? If you all put your energies together you can help a buddha make
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