We avoid the familiar reproach that we base our constructions of mental life on pathological findings; for dreams are regular events in the life of a normal person, however much their characteristics may differ from the productions of our waking life.
Every one has wishes which he would not like to tell to others, which he does not want to admit even to himself.
A religion, even if it calls itself a religion of love, must be hard and unloving to those who do not belong to it.
We are never so defenseless against suffering as when we love, never so forlornly unhappy as when we have lost our love object or its love.
Life is impoverished, it loses in interest, when the highest stake in the game of living, life itself, may not be risked. It becomes as shallow and empty as, let us say, an American flirtation.
The interpretation of Dreams is the royal road to a knowledge of the unconscious activities of the mind.
Analysis does not set out to make pathological reactions impossible, but to give the patient's ego freedom to decide one way or another.
Whoever loves becomes humble. Those who love have , so to speak , pawned a part of their narcissism.
Religion is an illusion and it derives its strength from the fact that it falls in with our instinctual desires.
As regards intellectual work it remains a fact, indeed, that great decisions in the realm of thought and momentous discoveries and solutions of problems are only possible to an individual, working in solitude.
No, our science is no illusion. But an illusion it would be to suppose that what science cannot give us we can get elsewhere.
America is the most grandiose experiment the world has seen, but, I am afraid, it is not going to be a success.
Children are completely egoistic; they feel their needs intensely and strive ruthlessly to satisfy them.
A man should not strive to eliminate his complexes but to get into accord with them: they are legitimately what directs his conduct in the world.
We believe that civilization has been created under the pressure of the exigencies of life at the cost of satisfaction of the instincts.
Every normal person, in fact, is only normal on the average. His ego approximates to that of the psychotic in some part or other and to a greater or lesser extent.
Man has, as it were, become a kind of prosthetic God. When he puts on all his auxiliary organs, he is truly magnificent; but those organs have not grown on him and they still give him much trouble at times.
A belligerent state permits itself every such misdeed, every such act of violence, as would disgrace the individual.
The tendency to aggression is an innate, independent, instinctual disposition in man... it constitutes the powerful obstacle to culture.
The doctor should be opaque to his patients and, like a mirror, should show them nothing but what is shown to him.
We have long observed that every neurosis has the result, and therefore probably the purpose, of forcing the patient out of real life, of alienating him from actuality.
I have found little that is 'good' about human beings on the whole. In my experience most of them are trash, no matter whether they publicly subscribe to this or that ethical doctrine or to none at all. That is something that you cannot say aloud, or perhaps even think.
What progress we are making. In the Middle Ages they would have burned me. Now they are content with burning my books.
America is a mistake, a giant mistake.
America is a mistake, admittedly a gigantic mistake, but a mistake nevertheless.
What we call happiness in the strictest sense comes from the (preferably sudden) satisfaction of needs which have been dammed up to a high degree.
The liberty of the individual is no gift of civilization. It was greatest before there was any civilization.
The voice of the intellect is a soft one, but it does not rest until it has gained a hearing.
The voice of the intellect is soft one, but it does not rest until it has gained a hearing. Ultimately, after endless rebuffs, it succeeds. This is one of the few points in which one may be optimistic about the future of mankind.
The conscious mind may be compared to a fountain playing in the sun and falling back into the great subterranean pool of subconscious from which it rises.