What is the ideal for mental health, then? A lived, compelling illusion that does not lie about life, death, and reality; one honest enough to follow its own commandments: I mean, not to kill, not to take the lives of others to justify itself.

Modern man is drinking and drugging himself out of awareness, or he spends his time shopping, which is the same thing.

The road to creativity passes so close to the madhouse and often detours or ends there.

Why would a person prefer the accusations of guilt, unworthiness, ineptitude — even dishonor and betrayal — to real possibility? This may not seem to be the choice, but it is: complete self-effacement, surrender to the “others,” disavowal of any personal dignity or freedom — on the one hand; and freedom and independence, movement away from the others, extrication of oneself from the binding links of family and social duties-on the other hand. This is the choice that the depressed person actually faces.

Man cannot endure his own littleness unless he can translate it into meaningfulness on the largest possible level.

Horror alone brings peace of mind.

Once you base your whole life striving on a desperate lie, and try to implement that lie, you instrument your own undoing.