Be careful, then, and be gentle about death. For it is hard to die, it is difficult to go through the door, even when it opens.

Most men have a deadness in them that frightens me so because of my own deadness. Why can't men get their life straight, like St.Mawr, and then think? Why can't they think quick, mother: quick as a woman: only farther than we do?

For whereas the mind works in possibilities, the intuitions work in actualities, and what you intuitively desire, that is possible to you. Whereas what you mentally or "consciously" desire is nine times out of ten impossible; hitch your wagon to a star, or you will just stay where you are.

The soul is a very perfect judge of her own motions, if your mind doesn't dictate to her.

The human consciousness is really homogeneous. There is no complete forgetting, even in death.

What one does in one's art, that is the breath of one's being. What one does in one's life, that is a bagatelle for the outsiders to fuss about.

Psychoanalysis is out, under a therapeutic disguise, to do away entirely with the moral faculty in man.