Okay. How many books have I referred to in the P.S. up to now?

“There have been forty books in the P.S., Osho.”

Good. I am a stubborn man.

First, Colin Wilson’s The Outsider. It is one of the most influential books of this century – but the man is ordinary. He is a scholar of tremendous capacity, and yes, there are a few insights here and there – but the book is beautiful.

As far as Colin Wilson is concerned, he himself is not an outsider; he is a worldly man. I am an outsider, that’s why I love the book. I love it because although he is not part of the dimension that he talks about, he writes very very close to the truth. But remember, even if you are close to truth you are still untrue. You are either true or untrue, there is nothing in between.

The book, The Outsider, represents a great effort on the part of Wilson to understand from the outside the world of the outsider; from the outside to look into the outsider, just as if someone is peeping through your keyhole. He can see a little bit – and Colin Wilson has seen. The book is worth reading – just reading, not studying. Read it and throw it into the dustbin, because unless a book comes from a real outsider it is going to be just a far, far away echo…echo of the echo, reflection of the reflection.

The second, The Analects of Confucius. I don’t like Confucius at all, and I don’t feel any guilt about not liking him. I feel really relieved that it is now on record. Confucius and Lao Tzu were contemporaries. Lao Tzu was a little older; Confucius had even gone to see Lao Tzu and came back trembling, shaken to the very roots, perspiring. His disciples asked, “What happened in the cave?…Because you were both there and nobody else.”

Confucius said, “It is good that nobody witnessed it. That man, my God, he is a dragon! He would have killed me, but I escaped. He is truly dangerous.”

Confucius is reporting truly. A man like Lao Tzu can kill you just to resurrect you; and unless one is ready to die one cannot be reborn. Confucius escaped from his own rebirth.

I have already chosen Lao Tzu, and forever. Confucius belonged to the very ordinary, mundane world. But let it be noted that I don’t like him; he is a snob. It is strange he was not born in England. But anyway, China in those days was England. In those days England was just barbarious, there was nothing of value there.