This is the great Devreux, the untouchable genius, the man to exceed all men, who I am retrieving from obscurity, where he presides, sitting like Balboa on the peak of Darien, unknown to our crumbling universe, gazing backwards towards the repudiation of the Council of Florence, or the 1755 Lisbon earthquake or the fall of Rome, and pronouncing in the same vein as Miller:
"It matters little how much is destroyed, if only the germ of the miraculous be preserved and nurtured."
The world, glued like trapped hamsters to their cathodic screens, needs to rediscover the men who live out of time. Remember, the Web is a whore, who promises something that can never be delivered.
If you want knowledge and unity and healing, find men such as Devreux, and he will, in his infinite generosity, take you not forwards, but backwards, to a time when genius was the norm, the road to Epidaurus, where the walls that lock the spirit in crumble, leaving only the original, unblemished heart.
