Only In Our Creative Acts Do We

In Sleep, Fantasy Takes The Form Of Dreams. But In Waking Life, Too, We Continue To Dream Beneath The Threshold Of Consciousness, Especially When Under The Influence Of Repressed Or Other Unconscious Complexes.

Deep Down, Below The Surface Of The Average Man's Conscience, He Hears A Voice Whispering, "there Is Something Not Right," No Matter How Much His Rightness Is Supported By Public Opinion Or Moral Code.

Nothing Is Possible Without Love.

The Only Thing That Really Matters Now Is Whether Man Can Climb Up To A Higher Moral Level, To A Higher Plane Of Consciousness, In Order To Be Equal To The Superhuman Powers Which The Fallen Angels Have Played Into His Hands. But He Can Make No Progress Until He Becomes Very Much Better Acquainted With His Own Nature.

To Be Normal Is The Ultimate Aim Of The Unsuccessful.