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A DILEMMA.
47
Madmen do not sleep. They suffer, and in their head everything revolves. Yes, revolves and falls. . . And they desire to howl, to scratch themselves with their nails. They desire to go down on all fours and crawl softly, softly, and then to spring up all at once and to shriek out:
"Aha!"
And to laugh. And to howl. To raise up one's head and to howl long—long, protractedly—protractedly, piteously—piteously.
Yes. Yes.
And I slept like an infant. Do madmen sleep like infants?
