The Animus (n.) is the personification of the masculine component in a woman — in Miss Miller, a plumed Aztec hero.
The Animus (n.) as demon lover — the unconscious ideal of a too-exalted spirituality — is a rival no mortal man can beat; a sensible marriage will not stop the unconscious from asserting it later as a neurosis.
The Animus (n.) is no real man but a faintly hysterical, childish hero whose craving to be loved shows through the gaps in his armour — power in place of love, the demon of opinion.
The Animus (n.) becomes a hero with whom the infantile woman at once identifies any real man she meets — woe to him, threatened with the direst punishments if he ever departs from the ideal.
The Animus (n.) is a woman's soul, and in the soul the outer roles reverse: inwardly it is the man who feels and the woman who reflects.
The Animus (n.) produces opinions as the anima produces moods — ready-made convictions resting on unconscious assumptions, never thought out, never doubted.
The Animus (n.) is an assembly of fathers and dignitaries delivering ex cathedra judgments — sayings scraped together since childhood into a canon of average truth: 'Everybody says it is like that.'
The Animus (n.) is also a neologist with a weakness for difficult words, which serve as a pleasant substitute for the odious task of reflection.
The Animus (n.) like the anima is a jealous lover: it puts an opinion about the real man in place of the man himself.
The Animus (n.) belongs inside, as a bridge to the unconscious; turned outward it becomes the dogmatist and high-handed pedagogue — the 'animus hound'.
The Animus (n.) turned outward brings the psychic change of sex — the animus-ridden woman, the effeminate man — when an inner function is turned outside for failure to recognize the inner world.
The Animus (n.) appears not as one Circe or Calypso but as a bevy of Flying Dutchmen and unknown wanderers from over the sea — famous tenors, boxing champions, great men in far-away cities.
The Animus (n.) turned toward the world is obstinate, harping on principles, dogmatic, world-reforming, word-mongering — and taken in by second-rate thinking, as the anima surrounds herself with inferior people.
The Animus (n.) often appears as a painter, a cinema-operator, a gallery owner — the projector that throws the unconscious's pictures onto life; his favourite victims are tenors, film stars and champions.
The Animus (n.) usually sees things “cock-eyed” and too blackly — a fleck on the cornea hiding the golden lamp in the pupil.
The Animus (n.) is partial to argument and best seen in disputes where both parties know they are right.
The Animus (n.) is the one interlocutor no man can talk with for five minutes without becoming the victim of his own anima.
The Animus (n.) is also a psychopomp: in its positive form it gives a woman's consciousness reflection, deliberation and self-knowledge.
The Animus (n.) is hard to recognize, for his name is legion; but whoever can stand his fellows' animosity without catching it will see they are possessed.
The Animus (n.) is irrational thinking as the anima is irrational feeling: an opinion that is always right, must have the last word, and ends with 'That's just the reason!'