We are driven by the results of the Big Bang, billions of years ago, which eventually produced life, which eventually produced human beings, and so on. But me? I'm an accident - a result - and therefore a victim.

I've found that contemporary psychology enrages me with its simplistic ideas of human life, and also its emptiness.

A mother should have some fantasy about her child's future. It will increase her interest in the child, for one thing. To turn the fantasy into a program to make the child fly an airplane across the country, for example, isn't the point. That's the fulfillment of the parent's own dreams. That's different. Having a fantasy - which the child will either seek to fulfill or rebel against furiously - at least gives a child some expectation to meet or reject.

To hope for nothing, to expect nothing, to demand nothing. This is analytical despair.

You don't attack the grunts of Vietnam; you blame the theory behind the war. Nobody who fought in that war was at fault. It was the war itself that was at fault.

If you are still being hurt by an event that happened to you at twelve, it is the thought that is hurting you now.

Our life is psychological, and the purpose of life is to make psyche of it, to find connections between life and soul.