'I should have thought it more disagreeable to be understood. One can get annoyed with imbeciles for failing to understand what seems obvious to oneself; one's vanity may be hurt by their interpretation of you - they make you out to be as vulgar as themselves. Or you may feel that you have failed as an artist, in so far as you haven't managed to make yourself transparently plain. But what are all these compared to the horrors of being understood ? You've given yourself away, you're known, you're at the mercy of the creatures into whose keeping you have committed your soul - why, the thoughts terrifying. If I were you,' he went on, 'I'd congratulate myself. You have a public which likes your books, but for the wrong reasons. And meanwhile you're safe, you're out of their reach, you possess yourself intact.'
We were powder magazines of repression and the smallest hint was a spark.