The neurotic has perfect vision in one eye, but he cannot remember which.

Of all second-class citizens, neurotics are the only ones who are so by choice.

The fault we admit to is seldom the fault we have, but it has a certain relationship to it, a somewhat similar shape, like that of a sleeve to an arm.

The death of someone we know always reminds us that we are still alive - perhaps for some purpose which we ought to re-examine.

The neurotic's strongest fantasy is that he has no fantasies. The real is very real to him, the unreal even more so.

Many of us go through life feeling as an actor might feel who does not like his part and does not believe in the play.

We can never at any time absorb more love than we're ready for.