It is in the middle of misery that so much becomes clear. The one who says, 'Nothing good came of this' is not yet listening.

Bone by bone, hair by hair, Wild Woman comes back. Through night dreams, through events half understood and half remembered.

Like all other lonely or hungry things, ego loves the light. It sees light, and the possibility of being close to the soul, and it creeps up to it and steals one of its essential camouflages. In a hunger for soul, our own ego-self steals the pelt

The predation of wolves and women by those who misunderstand them is strikingly similar.

Freud's translator accidentally omitted 'fashion' in the psychoanalytic list of primary instinctual drives; along with the drive to sexuality there is the drive to wear odd garments that may cut off circulation, occlude vision, make toes grow sideways, cause riots.

Nurture is like psychic Wheaties.

I hope you will go out and let stories happen to you, and that you will work them, water them with your blood and tears and you laughter till they bloom, till you yourself burst into bloom.