Doesn't the world bring forth thinking in human heads with the same necessity that it brings forth blossoms on the plant?

The reason for such an “unreasonable” attitude with me is that I am not at all sure what will happen to me after death. I have good reasons to assume that things are not finished with death. Life seems to be an interlude in a long story.

The more uncertain I have felt about myself, the more there has grown up in me a feeling of kinship with all things.

Synchronicity is an ever present reality for those who have eyes to see.

There is no light without shadow, and no psychic wholeness without imperfection.

We can hardly escape the feeling that the unconscious process moves spiral-wise round a centre, gradually getting closer, while the characteristics of the centre grow more and more distinct.

The sad truth is that man's real life consists of a complex of inexorable opposites - day and night, birth and death, happiness and misery, good and evil. We are not even sure that one will prevail against the other, that good will overcome evil, or joy defeat pain. Life is a battleground. It always has been and always will be; and if it were not so, existence would come to an end.