A Cure (n.) that removes only symptoms is no cure, say physicians — yet once the symptoms are gone, all that is left of the disease is the capacity to form new ones.
A Cure (n.) makes a man another man while leaving him the same — what he might have become at best under the most favourable conditions; and that is a great deal.
A Cure (n.) is a matter of quantities: once again, God is on the side of the big battalions.
A Cure (n.) comes only with analysis's last word: the pathogenic ideas are so knotted together that the whole picture vanishes at once, not piece by piece.
A Cure (n.) and a mended memory are reached by the same road; removing symptoms and filling memory's gaps are one aim.
A Cure (n.) is better studied by its obstacles, Freud says late in life: how analysis heals is understood well enough; what stops it is not.
A Cure (n.) is complete when the patient says of the repressed thing forced on him against all resistance: "Now I feel as though I had known it all the time."
A Cure (n.) comes as a relapse into love: the repressed desire wakes again, and only a fresh tide of passion can wash the symptoms away.
A Cure (n.) that is quick, safe and pleasant, "cito, tute, jucunde", is the old medical promise psychoanalysis does not make.