In my version of the story, it would be Dr. Heckle and Mr. Hide

Being born a Mormon left me with a 19th century set of problems. To compensate, I went as far forward as I could, pressing my thoughts under a mind-suppressing behaviorism – a discipline toward a surface view. My later education however arrived only after my formative years and that, added with the colder demands of behaviorism, failed to compensate, not only in depth and energy, but also in emotional relevance. Now painfully aware … as far forward as my intensity can throw solutions, I often stop, look back and down at them with disdain. In the next moment, I cannot help but cringe, and yet I cannot deal with this inherited tension in any way other than to propose solutions in these latter-days to what I know are obsolete problems. I reconcile myself to this need to stoop for this archeology of morals, ready to dust off my own skeletal remains, only to find that the nerves are very much alive.

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