Without Playing With Fantasy, No

Dream Analysis Stands Or Falls With [the Hypothesis Of The Unconscious]. Without It The Dream Appears To Be Merely A Freak Of Nature, A Meaningless Conglomerate Of Memory-fragments Left Over From The Happenings Of The Day.

Who Has Fully Realized That History Is Not Contained In Thick Books But Lives In Our Very Blood?

What Is Essential In A Work Of Art Is That It Should Rise Far Above The Realm Of Personal Life And Speak To The Spirit And Heart Of The Poet As Man To The Spirit And Heart Of Mankind.

The Conscious Mind Allows Itself To Be Trained Like A Parrot, But The Unconscious Does Not — Which Is Why St. Augustine Thanked God For Not Making Him Responsible For His Dreams.

A Man Who Has Not Passed Through The Inferno Of His Passions Has Never Overcome Them.