If the devils of the imagination can be converted into something good? Obviously. They are the devils that often go to and fight on the side of the barbarians after they have been thoroughly trained in military arts under imperial flag (and the reverse).

So let us start with a good question and let us employ them to answer.

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The question is the problem. "Ah so. I must become tough. I must cooperate, coordinate in evaluate. I must draw sword and use buckler and shoot poisonous and fiery arrows. The aim is worth it. And when I will have reached the highest possible level that is possible at this time I will have discovered that the very change that was produced has deprived me of the aim and robbed me of the last chance that was there as a promise & potential at the beginning."

Broad is the way that leads to destruction.

So the questions is: "Really, I don't seem to understand-know-be anything anymore." It's not an indifferent question, and if it is yours you know what kind of question it is.

Unsigned Devil (with a dreamiy look turned aside and upwards, recites):
Now, the answer is: everything is precisely the way it should be. A part of you that you are not conscious of, but is more conscious than 'you', and which 'absence' from your ordinary consciousness probably 'enables' your very personal existence, no, enables it for sure, for we are now in world where imagination is reality, must had made a deal in the past, no, did make a deal. A deal with the Higher Powers. This self was shown an aim, so majestic, so overwhelming, so true, so beautiful, that he wanted to pay the price for reaching it. "Okay," says the self (recites Unsigned Devil), leaning towards the horizon vaguely, "okay. Tie 'em up, those e'ents, and chain me to 'em. 't is worth it." And everything happened as the self wanted. Now this part complains but partself wanted it this way. Becuase 't is worth it (concludes Unsigned Devil).

Unsigned Devil (recites, less sleepy and even lively):
Now let us imagine people who somehow gained the higher ability to remember or partly remember what is the trouble, and the trouble is, invariably, what one cannot see, and the above background is largely unseen. Not imagine, I say, for such must surely live among us. Not that they must, but they do live.

These people, I fancy, just don't know what it means: to give up. They just NEVER give up. They are going to make it and they'll make it. Keyword: goodwill.

Whatever it is that radiates from such a human being is in fact superhuman. The mere presence of such a one ligthens your burden and inspires you with strength and hope. (I know it sounds like sentimentall Adventure of Dr. Fyornhoff Willasnovich von Strudelkiller. I don't like how 'strength and hope' sound myself but there is just no better way. The objection, though, is erased by the intention simply to put down facts rather than to sound well. And, of course, there's another category of objections not even worth responding to, for very obvious reasons visible to anybody except to those who make them.)

The problem is that there are schools which say "we'll teach you how to cook" and "we'll teach you to play trumpet" but I've never seen a school which says "we'll make you into a sun", a school of real ability.

I speak foolishly but it is your fault.

The Devil is now sufficiently joyful and animated. His eyes are sparkling with warm expression. I fancy he thinks he is St. Paul or somethin'.