so that people who read these reports will be able to understand me, they are talking about themselves as well.
But still it's frightening to realize that my fate is in the hands of men
who are not the giants I once thought them to be, men who don't know all the answers.
June 13 — I'm dictating this under great emotional strain. I've walked out on the whole thing.
I'm on a plane headed back to New York alone, and I have no idea what I'm going to do when I get there.
At first, I admit, I was in awe at the picture of an international convention of scientists and scholars, gathered for an exchange of ideas.
Here, I thought, was where it all really happened. Here it would be different from the sterile college discussions,
because these were the men on the highest levels of psychological research and education,
the scientists who wrote the books and delivered the lectures, the authorities people quoted.
If Nemur and Strauss were ordinary men working beyond their abilities, I felt sure it would be different with the others.
When it was time for the meeting, Nemur steered us through the gigantic lobby with its heavy baroque furnishings and huge curving marble staircases,
and we moved through the thickening knots of handshakers, nodders, and smilers.
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