Much of his work is tedious, and some of it shocks people, so that we are inclined to say: ‘What a pity! What a pity to go on about the subconscious and the solar plexus and maleness and femaleness and African darkness and the cosmic battle when you can write with such insight about human beings and so beautifully about flowers. Have you had that thought? Don’t worry if you have; so has E. M. Forster. Still, it’s a mistake: You can’t say, ‘Let’s drop his theories and enjoy his art,’ because the two are one. Disbelieve his theories, if you like, but never brush them aside… He resembles a
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