America is a mistake, a giant mistake.

We choose not randomly each other. We meet only those who already exists in our subconscious.

None believes in his own death. In the unconscious everyone is convinced of his own immortality.

In the long run, nothing can withstand reason and experience, and the contradiction religion offers to both is palpable.

The voice of the intellect is soft one, but it does not rest until it has gained a hearing. Ultimately, after endless rebuffs, it succeeds. This is one of the few points in which one may be optimistic about the future of mankind.

The moment a man questions the meaning and value of life, he is sick, since objectively neither has any existence; by asking this question one is merely admitting to a store of unsatisfied libido to which something else must have happened, a kind of fermentation leading to sadness and depression.

We may say that hysteria is a caricature of an artistic creation, a compulsion neurosis a caricature of a religion, and a paranoiac delusion a caricature of a philosophic system.