The biographies of great artists make it abundantly clear that the creative urge is often so imperious that it battens on their humanity and yokes everything to the service of the work, even at the cost of health and ordinary human happiness. The unborn work in the psyche of the artist is a force of nature that achieves its end either with tyrannical might or with the subtle cunning of nature herself, quite regardless of the personal fate of the man who is its vehicle.

Nothing is possible without love ... For love puts one in a mood to risk everything.

We cannot change anything until we accept it. Condemnation does not liberate, it oppresses.

People will do anything, no matter how absurd, to avoid facing their own souls.

Meaninglessnes s inhibits fullness of life and is therefore the equivalent to illness. Meaning makes a great many things endurable--perh aps everything.

The self is not only the centre but also the whole circumference which embraces both conscious and unconscious; it is the centre of this totality, just as the ego is the centre of consciousness.

Real work is completed in silence and strikes a chord in the minds of only a very few.