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I don't regard myself as a Surrealist in the sense of the "Surrealist Manifesto" published by Andre Breton in 1924. To me, that Manifesto is somewhat… - R. A. Lafferty
" "I don't regard myself as a Surrealist in the sense of the "Surrealist Manifesto" published by Andre Breton in 1924. To me, that Manifesto is somewhat dated, being a recoil from World War I, and being too heavily Freudian. My own unconscious is more Jungian than Freudian. But if Breton hadn't staked claim to the name, I would probably call myself a Surrealist in the "Remembrance of Things Within" sense, but not in the "world of dream and fantasy joined to the everyday rational world, becoming 'an absolute reality, a surreality'." I suppose that I believe in another sort of a surreality or super-reality, but it would have to be on a wider basis than the encounters of myself and me. As often as not, it is the subconscious that supplies the rational element, and the exterior world that supplies the dream and fantasy feeling.
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About R. A. Lafferty
Raphael Aloysius Lafferty (7 November 1914 – 18 March 2002) was an American science fiction and fantasy writer, famous for his humorous use of metaphor, narrative structure, and language in his very peculiar forms of etymological wit.
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Raphael Aloysius Lafferty
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Additional quotes by R. A. Lafferty
Aye, a man’d be a fool to lose his head twice over the same thing,” Thomas mused, still looking more than half stubborn. “Of course I’ll sign.”
“He’d have to feel himself a little better than those around him to take up a challenge like that,” Foreman put in hurriedly as Thomas had already touched magnetic stylus to the form.
“He’d have to be a man of some pride.”
“I am a man of some pride,” Thomas said. “I do feel myself a little better than those around me, now that I really look at them.”
“He’d have to be a man who couldn’t be pushed and couldn’t be scared,” said Foreman.
“I say I’m such a man, even if it’s a lie. But I scare a little,” Thomas said.
“He’d have to be a man who’d stand his ground even if he were scared,” Foreman needled.
“He’d have to be quite a man to die for a point, even if he understood it only at the last minute, and then dimly. He’d have to be such a man-“
“Foreman, you fool, what are you up to?” Proctor demanded.
“Who pushed me into the corner the other time, Fabian?” Thomas asked softly. “Who required my head of me for his point?”
“If you’re granted another life, Thomas, you try to figure it out. Will he be writ as friend or enemy of you, do you think? On which side did he seem?
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