Subtle Psychology One hundred pairs of eyes observe, critically. One hundred staring people, transfixed. Some big, some small, but all watching analytically. Some young, some old, but all inter-racially mixed. They watch my momentary motions, shallow shuffles. They note down my evident thoughts, quivering emotions. As my body language is translated, in murmuring kerfuffles, They glance at each other energetically, consulting notions. They subtly tongue carefully obscured questions And scribble down the hasty, staccato replies. With a bark, or tic of an eyebrow as bastions, The note down anything that they think applies. These subtle psychologists think they know it all: Who are they, telling me who I really am? They come in knowing all and point me at the wall And tell me my problems are solved, but they don’t give a damn! They can’t read my mind, they never will. I know myself best, that’s my breakthrough! They are more deceived: they “think” and I pay the bill. But who is the less deceived? I paid, so they know me better than I do?
George Bernard Shaw, Irish playwright and critic, was born today in 1856.
Carl Jung, Swiss psychiatrist and psychoanalyst, was born today in 1875.
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