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Fifth: J. Krishnamurti’s The First and Last Freedom. I love this man, and I hate this man. I love him because he speaks the truth, but I hate him for his intellectuality. He is only reason, rationality. I wonder, he may be a reincarnation of that goddamned Greek, Aristotle. His logic is what I hate, his love is what I respect – but his book is beautiful.
This was his first book after his enlightenment, and the last too. Although many other books have appeared they are only poor repetitions of the same. He has not been able to create anything better than The First and Last Freedom.
It is a strange phenomenon: Kahlil Gibran wrote his masterpiece The Prophet when he was only eighteen years old, and struggled his whole life to create something better but could not. Ouspensky could not go beyond Tertium Organum even though he met Gurdjieff, lived and worked with him for many years. And such is the case with J. Krishnamurti: his book The First and Last Freedom is really the first and the last.