The map appears to us more real than the land.

Why doesn't the past decently bury itself, instead of sitting waiting to be admired by the present?

I can never decide whether my dreams are the result of my thoughts, or my thoughts the result of my dreams.

Eat and carouse with Bacchus, or munch dry bread with Jesus, but don't sit down without one of the gods.

I am in love and, my God, it is the greatest thing that can happen to a man.

The whole point about the true unconscious is that it is all the time moving forward, beyond the range of its own fixed laws or habits. It is no good trying to superimpose an ideal nature upon the unconscious.

Having achieved and accomplished love, then the man passes into the unknown. He has become himself, his tale is told.