The neurotic feels as though trapped in a gas-filled room where at any moment someone, probably himself, will strike a match.
Confession is good for the conscience, but it usually bypasses the soul.
The trouble with women is men; the trouble with men, men.
Many of us are equal to life's emergencies who cannot bear its day-after-dayness.
The neurotic's strongest fantasy is that he has no fantasies. The real is very real to him, the unreal even more so.
Your money, or your life. We know what to do when a burglar makes this demand of us, but not when God does.