3076. You know yourself that the old man never said anything of the sort, and no matter how you wanted to stretch or distort his words, you could never arrive at anything like such a prognostication.
But although the Jailer could not read or write, somehow or other,
don’t ask me how, Caesar’s words in Latin had made their way into his
mind. Caesar said, “Men believe anything they want to believe.” And the
Jailer extrapolated that idea to the entire world of the spoken and
written word. Then and now, things mean what we think they mean, or what
anyone wants them to mean.
“But,” you say, “that is a very cynical attitude, and implies that
truth does not even exist.” No, truth exists, but it is not composed of
words. Truth is not composed of images either. Truth, blind deaf and
dumb; is understood only in retrospect.
3079. As the Jailer expected, the statement that Faldoni was destined to raise the dead with his paintings had the desired effect. For some reason, raising the dead is important to religious people, I don’t know why that should be.