Education (n.) can only start from naked reality, never from a delusive ideal — though we prefer to talk of man as he ought to be.
Education (n.) could do everything — reduce a person to a psychic machine or mould him into an ideal — if there were no collective unconscious; its dominants set strict limits with their almost irresistible demands.
Education (n.) bypasses its central problem when it becomes a furor paedagogicus — the education of the educator; children are educated by what the grown-up is, not by what he says.
Education (n.) that opens young eyes to the world but never to the self is the maddest of delusions: the powers of the psyche are mightier than all the Great Powers of the earth.
Education (n.) and treatment succeed best when the unconscious co-operates — our best methods fail when nature does not come to our aid.
Education (n.) that protects every peculiarity of the child without asking whether it serves social life robs the child of the lesson that peculiarities are not admissible just because he has them — and breeds unadapted individualists ruled by a ruthless ego.
Education (n.) as commonly understood is turning more and more into the kind of training one gives animals, says Keyserling.
Education (n.) preached, in the nineteenth century, blind faith from the Church and intellectual rationalism from the universities — so that today we plead in vain whether for faith or reason.
Education (n.) today regards individuality and lawlessness as synonyms, so individual contents return in neurosis as poisons.
Education (n.) truly means being drawn out of oneself into other paths — which only an educative will can do.
Education (n.) should see children as they are, not as we wish them, follow their natural growth, and shun dead rules.
Education (n.) has as its whole aim, Jung remarked, the implanting of lasting complexes in the child, which endure as long as their feeling-tone stays alive.