The More Veiled Becomes The Outside World,

In The End, The Only Events Of My Life Worth Telling Are Those When The Imperishable World Erupted Into This Transitory One All Other Memories Of Travels, People And My Surroundings Have Paled Beside These Interior Happenings But My Encounters With The 'other' Reality, My Bouts With The Unconscious, Are Indelibly Engraved On My Memory. In That Realm There Has Always Been Wealth In Abundance, And Everything Else Has Lost Importance By Comparison.

We Do Not Know Whether Hitler Is Going To Found A New Islam. He Is Already On The Way; He Is Like Muhammad.

Our Western Mind Lacking All Culture In This Respect, Has Never Yet Devised A Concept, Not Even A Name For "the Union Of Opposites Through The Middle Path", That Most Fundamental Item Of Inward Experience Which Could Respectably Be Set Against The Chinese Concept Of Tao.

We Must Be Able To Let Things Happen In The Psyche. For Us, This Becomes A Real Art... Consciousness Is Forever Interfering, Helping, Correcting, And Negating, Never Leaving The Single Growth Of The Psychic Processes In Peace.

Projection [of Our Own Shadow] Makes The Whole World A Replica Of Our Own Unknown Face.