Words Are Animals, Alive With A Will

About A Third Of My Cases Are Suffering From No Clinically Definable Neurosis, But From The Senselessness And Emptiness Of Their Lives.

I Am An Orphan, Alone: Nevertheless I Am Found Everywhere. I Am One, But Opposed To Myself. I Am Youth And Old Man At One And The Same Time. I Have Known Neither Father Nor Mother, Because I Have Had To Be Fetched Out Of The Deep Like A Fish, Or Fell Like A White Stone From Heaven. In Woods And Mountains I Roam, But I Am Hidden In The Innermost Soul Of Man. I Am Mortal For Everyone, Yet I Am Not Touched By The Cycle Of Aeons.

The Years... When I Pursued The Inner Images Were The Most Important Time Of My Life. Everything Else Is To Be Derived From This. It Began At That Time, And The Later Details Hardly Matter Anymore. My Entire Life Consisted In Elaborating What Had Burst Forth From The Unconscious And Flooded Me Like An Enigmatic Stream And Threatened To Break Me. That Was The Stuff And Material For More Than Only One Life. Everything Later Was Merely The Outer Classification, The Scientific Elaboration, And The Integration Into Life. But The Numinous Beginning, Which Contained Everything Was Then.

I Had To Make A Confession Of Faith In Stone. That Was The Beginning Of The Tower, The House I Built For Myself At Bollingen.

Life Is Teleology Par Excellence; It Is The Intrinsic Striving Towards A Goal, And The Living Organism Is A System Of Directed Aims Which Seek To Fulfill Themselves.