To The Critical Intelligence, Nothing Is Left

Thunder Is No Longer The Voice Of An Angry God... No River Contains A Spirit... No Snake The Embodiment Of Wisdom, No Mountain Cave The Home Of A Great Demon. No Voices Now Speak To Man From Stones, Plants And Animals, Nor Does He Speak To Them Thinking They Can Hear. His Contact With Nature Has Gone, And With It Has Gone The Profound Emotional Energy That This Symbolic Connection Supplied.

The Unsatisfied Yearning Of The Artist Reaches Back To The Primordial Image In The Unconscious Which Is Best Fitted To Compensate The Inadequacy And One-sidedness Of The Present.

This Whole Creation Is Essentially Subjective, And The Dream Is The Theater Where The Dreamer Is At Once: Scene, Actor, Prompter, Stage Manager, Author, Audience, And Critic.

Self-reflection, Or - What Comes To The Same Thing - The Urge To Individuation, Gathers Together What Is Scattered And Multifarious And Exalts It To The Original Of The One, The Primordial Man. In This Way Our Existence As Separate Beings, Our Former Ego Nature, Is Abolished, The Circle Of Consciousness Is Widened, And Because The Paradoxes Have Been Made Conscious, The Sources Of Conflict Are Dried Up.

Nothing Is More Repulsive Than A Furtively Prurient Spirituality; It Is Just As Unsavoury As Gross Sensuality.