When inward life dries up, when feeling decreases and apathy increases, when one cannot affect or even genuinely touch another person, violence flares up as a daimonic necessity for contact, a mad drive forcing touch in the most direct way possible.

We receive love — from our children as well as others — not in proportion to our demands or sacrifices or needs, but roughly in proportion to our own capacity to love.

One of the few blessings of living in an age of anxiety is that we are forced to become aware of ourselves.

Every human being must have a point at which he stands against the culture, where he says, this is me and the damned world can go to hell.

Creativity is the result of a struggle between vitality and form. As anyone who has tried to write a sonnet or scan poetry, is aware, the form ideally do not take away from the creativity but may add to it.

One central need in life is to fulfill its own potential.

When we are dealing with human beings, no truth has reality by itself; it is always dependent upon the reality of the immediate relationship.