Knowledge (n.) is the intellectual manipulation of carefully verified observations.
Knowledge (n.) is always bound to consciousness — we can know even the unconscious only by making it conscious, which is the puzzle.
Knowledge (n.) owes no immediate benefit: in the end, no one knows where or when, every fragment of it turns into power.
Knowledge (n.) is not always knowledge: the patient told the sense of his symptom knows it afterwards just as little as before.
Knowledge (n.) can breed fear: the sailor looks with terror at the small cloud the passenger thinks nothing of.
Knowledge (n.) comes in two kinds in obsessional neurosis: the patient knows his traumas, has not forgotten them, and still does not know what they mean.
Knowledge (n.) must come before love, Leonardo held: one has no right to love or hate a thing without knowing its nature, and great love springs from great knowledge.
Knowledge (n.) makes one modest: only the man who really knows sees how little he knows.
Knowledge (n.) about a conflict one is not living changes nothing: the reader has learned something and is altered not at all.
Knowledge (n.) is patchwork: each step forward in knowing leaves an unsolved residue behind.
Knowledge (n.) one's own reason supplies is not the same as hearing it from someone outside — so the doctor plays the effective outsider, using a component of love.
Knowledge (n.) handed to a patient is like a ministry decree that never reaches the provincial magistrates: it does not arrive where the memory is kept.
Knowledge (n.) about the unconscious, handed to a patient, cures as well as handing out menus in a famine cures hunger.