One of my mental complications — horrible beyond words — is a fear of insanity, which itself is insanity. I am partly in that state betrayed as his by Rollinat in the opening poem (I think) of his Névroses. Zmpises, criminal some, insane others, reaching, amid my agony, a horrible tendency to action, a terrible muscularity, felt in the muscles, I mean — these are common with me and the horror of them and of their intensity — greater than ever now both in number and in intensity — cannot be described.