The continuing struggle was once described in the following metaphor by a patient who had successfully completed a long course of psychotherapy: 'I came to therapy hoping to receive butter for the bread of life. Instead, at the end, I emerged with a pail of sour milk, a churn, and instructions on how to use them.' (138)

Maintaining the illusion that I am in control is futile, lonely, and in the long run more always costly than the effort is worth.

Escape is not a dirty word. None of us can face what's happening head-on all of the time.

Sometimes life seems like a poorly designed cage within which man has been sentenced to be free.

For a long time now I have trusted my dreaming self as wiser than that waking self whose head is cluttered with reason and practicalities, so busy trying to control things that he sometimes forgets that the heart has reasons that reason does not know. When I dream, I never forget to trust myself.

He prefers the security of known misery to the misery of unfamiliar insecurity.

That is one of the reasons why a man should pick a path with heart, so that he can find his laughter.