I had rather naively conceived of Cambridge as being essentially
like school, a prison still, but with more spacious courts and a measure of
greater freedom. Instead I found a
place of unimagined delights. The
friendship and esteem of my fellows no longer depended upon proficiency at
games; and, if preoccupation with the works of Asian mystics were eccentricity
bordering on madness – the Haileybury view – at least there were other lunatics
with whom I could enjoy myself. Yet even
this happy discovery did not convince me that my Cambridge life could be more
than a pleasant interlude, a more easily endured prolongation of what,
over-romantically, I termed my 'exile’.
John Blofeld, The Wheel
Of Life. Berkeley, Shambala, 1959.
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