The World Hangs On A Thin Thread,

Life Has Always Seemed To Me Like A Plant That Lives On Its Rhizome. Its True Life Is Invisible, Hidden In The Rhizome. The Part That Appears Above Ground Lasts Only A Single Summer. Then It Withers Away—an Ephemeral Apparition. When We Think Of The Unending Growth And Decay Of Life And Civilizations, We Cannot Escape The Impression Of Absolute Nullity. Yet I Have Never Lost A Sense Of Something That Lives And Endures Underneath The Eternal Flux. What We See Is The Blossom, Which Passes. The Rhizome Remains.

Everything That Irritates Us About Others Can Lead Us To An Understanding Of Ourselves.

The Principle Aim Of Psychotherapy Is Not To Transport One To An Impossible State Of Happiness, But To Help (the Client) Acquire Steadfastness And Patience In The Face Of Suffering.

Dreams Are The Facts From Which We Must Proceed.

There Is No Coming To Consciousness Without Pain. People Will Do Anything, No Matter How Absurd, In Order To Avoid Facing Their Own Soul. One Does Not Become Enlightened By Imagining Figures Of Light, But By Making The Darkness Conscious.