Money is our madness, our vast collective madness.
And, of course, if the multitude is mad
the individual carries his own grain of insanity around with
him.
I doubt if any man living hands out a pound note without
a pang;
and a real tremor, if he hands out a ten-pound
note.
We quail, money makes us quail.
It has got us down, we grovel before it in strange
terror.
And no wonder, for money has a fearful cruel power among
men.
But it is not money we are so terrified of,
it is the collective money-madness of mankind.
For mankind says with one voice: How much is he worth?
Has he no money? Then let him eat dirt, and go
cold.
And if I have no money, they will give me a little
bread
so I do not die,
but they will make me eat dirt with it.
I shall have to eat dirt, I shall have to eat dirt
if I have no money.
It is that that I am frightened of.
And that fear can become a delirium.
It is fear of my money-mad fellow-men.
We must have some money
to save us from eating dirt.
Bread should be free,
shelter should be free,
fire should be free,
to all and anybody, all and anybody, all over the
world.
We must regain our sanity about money
before we start killing one another about it.
It’s one thing or the other.