Every Man Has A Mob Self And

I Cannot Get Any Sense Of An Enemy - Only Of A Disaster.

I Cannot Be A Materialist - But Oh, How Is It Possible That A God Who Speaks To All Hearts Can Let Belgravia Go Laughing To A Vicious Luxury, And Whitechapel Cursing To A Filthy Debauchery - Such Suffering, Such Dreadful Suffering - And Shall The Short Years Of Christ's Mission Atone For It All?

You Can Have Your Cake And Eat It. But My God, It Will Go Rotten Inside You.

The One Woman Who Never Gives Herself Is Your Free Woman, Who Is Always Giving Herself.

The Whole Point About The True Unconscious Is That It Is All The Time Moving Forward, Beyond The Range Of Its Own Fixed Laws Or Habits. It Is No Good Trying To Superimpose An Ideal Nature Upon The Unconscious.