Robert Enzmann in 1946 (22yrs of age) wrote:  

I must not be too modest, so let’s be frank. I am a genius, and a genius second to none.

Someone asked me: “When do you expect that you will receive the Nobel Prize for your monumental contributions to world literature?”

“The Nobel Prize,” I snapped, “these persons don’t know from nothing. Of course, I will win it, but what would a trifle like that mean to me?”

But let me say more about something interesting, that is myself. There is no reason to hide what everybody knows. I am a genius.

What have other literary giants done? You may name Shakespeare, Goethe, Anderson, Dante, Tasso – or even L’I Abner, what have they done? They have written words and had their words make sense. Anyone can write words that make sense. Chinese words make Chinese sense. Norwegian words make Norwegian sense. You see how it is. Almost any man in a million can be a great writer.

What have I done to raise my stature head and shoulders over my contemporaries?

I have created a new style – a new literary discipline, a new concept in the use of orality. Abstract writing. Yeh. That’s it.

Words are chosen for their beauty, their symmetry, their richness in thought quality, and tradition. Sordid words even become noble words through the pure spirit I breathe on them. Great works, my pearls of euphony.

There are some poor misguided fools, the pitiful idiots, halfwits, who have presumed to criticize me and hint that I have attempted to ape the modernistic painters – the painters! Phew! The painters.

As it is, some of them have a grain of sense, just a tiny grain, of course. They instinctively attempted a little pure thought, abstract thought. They attempt it in line and color, and in patches, they smear and befoul paper, canvas, wood, plaster, and sidewalks. Pencils they used, and brushes, styli, crayons, and dirty fingers – that was method! Technique, they called it. What a pitch!

Now I have come. I took some of their ideas. Did I plagiarize them? I did not. Do you plagiarize the pigs when you make silk purses out of their ears? Well, my words are silk purses full of rubies and gold.

They had common gangue; I have the gems. They had the entrails; I have a string of sausages. They have wood pulp; I have fine carvings. They have silk work squash, but I have my lady’s silk hose.

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