(" Advent " pg. 142/143).
"... I felt he found the forty-seven, and accepted by him as
patient or student, seemed to crown all my other links and relationships, justify all the spiral windings of my mind and my body. "
- -
"I knew what had suddenly angry. I turned and left the couch, feet on the ground. I do not know exactly what he said ... I turned around, sitting in an unorthodox way, straight, feet on the ground. The same professor is rather Orthodox, is hitting his hand with his fist at the head of the old horsehair sofa, which has heard more secrets than the confession of any Roman Catholic confessor in his heyday ... Consciously, I did not realize having said anything that could explain the explosion of Professor. Even when I turned, facing him, my mind was far enough away to ask if there had been some idea of \u200b\u200bit to speed up the analytical content or to direct the flow of associated images. The Professor said, "The problem is, I am an old man, you do not think it worthwhile to love me." The impact of these words was too terrible, just I felt nothing. I said nothing. What he expected me to say? It was exactly as if the Supreme Being had beaten his fist on the back of the sofa where I lay. Why did that? He must know everything or know nothing. Should know what I felt. Perhaps he knew, maybe it was that. Perhaps, after all, was a resource, something to impress me, break me something I noticed in part, refused to break something that was not delivered ... For the moment I'm leaning on the couch. Accommodate the blanket I had been dropped. I put my hands under it. I wonder if Professor realized I looked at the clock. I'm really broken. But there is no possibility of an answer. "
* Hilda Doolittle, Written on the wall. Excerpted from http://www.campolacaniano.com.ar/historia.htm
...
"the mother is the Muse, the Creator, and especially in my case, since my mother's name was Helena. (...) Obviously, it is my heritage. My imaginative powers derive from my mother, artist and music. (...) The environment surrounding the Professor, and their interests, seem to derive from my mother, rather than my father, but to say that the "transfer" is performed on Freud as a mother does not satisfy me at all. He had said: "And, I must tell you (you were frank with me and I'll be with you) - I do not like being the mother transference, always amazes me and bothers me a bit. I feel very masculine. "
(Advent, March 9, 1933) ---
" I had talked about my disappointment of Havelock Ellis (...). In my dreams echo salt to my typewriter. So I presume that my writing would salar insipidus with the salt of the earth, the lesser claim of Sigmund Freud. (...) I screwed up with Teacher to read one of his books. He said (as I recall) that women do not come to anything or reach much creative activity, unless you have a male partner or male partner who draw their inspiration. Perhaps he's right, and my dream of salt the typewriter with the telltale sign of the transfer is further proof of his infallibility. "
* ( Advent pág.198, 199.) - Excerpted from http://www.descartes.org.ar/etexts-gez.htm
...
"I remember Teacher said that you never know, until it ends the analysis, what is important and what is not. "
* HD," Advent ", March 10, 1933.
"The words come back with remarkable freshness and intensity, now that, after this long wait, I can remember those sessions in Vienna without an unbearable terror and without frightening fainting. The war was upon us before I had time to sort, revive, and to collect unique series of events and dreams that belonged according to the historical time period 1914/1919. ... And caught the unexpected opportunity to work with Professor himself. "
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