Canst thou not . . . pluck from the memory a rooted sorrow . . . and with some sweet oblivious antidote cleanse the stuft bosom of that perilous stuff which weighs upon the heart?
Shakespeare, Macbeth, IV, iii
I have another self . . . weltering in tears. . . . I carry it deep inside me like a wound.
M. Tournier ( 1972, 21)
It is easier to fall ill than learn the truth. . . . So take care of your maladies. . . . They always have something to tell you.
M. Pavic ( 1990, 68)
When the mother is missing, we spend our whole life wandering, without a body, lights lost in the night, hearts that beat aimlessly, blood that goes on circulating without rhyme or reason . . .
A. Savinio ( 1988, 297)
It was a great tree, beautiful and strong. I knew it was what I was looking for. . . . It seemed it had always been there though I had only just discovered it.
Analysand's report of a dream ( Scott 1951, 262)
The most important part of the integration of a personality is to make peace with one's own body.
Elvin Semrad ( Rako and Mazer 1983, 23)