[Redbook1:97-98][19691116:1645b]{A
trip to Oxford
[continued(3)]}[16th November 1969]
Sunday 16th November,
4.45pm [continued]
F.S. is one
of the few people at this school that I really like. We often disagree; one day we shall disagree
about something of major importance; but he is the only person I can think of who
I have never known be vindictive, spiteful, or underhand. When he is angry, he is angry sincerely,
openly, and he would never go out and slam the door. That small thing is symptomatic of an
incredible difference between him and (say) T.E. or B.G.. I cannot be objective enough about myself to
compare us.
He is
regarded as a very "cultural” person – probably because he is fairly near
the borders of sanity at times. This is
not meant to be vindictive or unkind, nor is it; I am simply writing the truth
as it appears through my eyes. His
emotional background is disturbed. He is
subject to fits of depression, more acute than most of us. Like me, he cherishes books for the sake of
security. [....]
His own
slightly apart view of life could make him into something we would call
great. His style, which many here
glorify, is juvenile and immature -- but holds the seeds of greatness. If he can but gain control of it, and learn
not to let himself be carried away, I think he will be good. He may be good already, in the market sense
of the word, but not, for what it's worth, in my opinion.
I have come
to rely fairly heavily this term on his willingness to listen and to take
account of my ideas and problems -- even when he does it humorously, his
approach is serious enough to be helpful.
I think he may have found my own willingness to listen to him a
help. Odd that my one real contact with
sanity in [the] House should be someone who is virtually a psychiatric case.
That is not
to say that I dislike the other people in this house. I love them -- but that is another matter.
[continues]
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