The Neurotic (n.) is given to complaining of his illness, but if you try to take it away, he will defend it like a lioness her young.
A Neurotic (n.) creates nothing new; he only shows on a magnified scale the love and hatred of parents that most children feel less obviously.
A Neurotic (n.) goes astray by trusting the trivial idea rather than the feeling: the affect is justified; it is the idea that has been swapped.
A Neurotic (n.) reacts rightly in kind but excessively in size — the excess flowing in from unconscious sources that seize a legitimate occasion as their door.
A Neurotic (n.) has inherited an archaic constitution as an atavistic vestige — and the effort to compensate for it at civilization's behest drives his immense expenditure of energy.
The Neurotic (n.) remains infantile in his attitude to danger, still afraid of perils he should have outgrown.
Neurotic (n.) show in coarse magnification what dreams reveal in healthy people: everyone has passed through the perversions and the Oedipus complex on the normal road.
The Neurotic (n.) is anchored in a past when his libido lacked nothing — even if he must go back to the time he was at the breast to find it.
The Neurotic (n.) is incapable of enjoyment and of efficiency: his desire has no real object, and his energy is spent keeping it down.
The Neurotic (n.) builds a private religion: excluded from the great groups, he makes his own world of imagination and delusion, a distorted copy of human institutions.
The Neurotic (n.) behaves like a grown woman crying over a broken trinket: he keeps old determinants of anxiety as if long-past dangers still existed.
A Neurotic (n.) breaks down at the same difficulties that normal people overcome, as the young Jung put it; neurosis has no content of its own.
A Neurotic (n.) behaves like a Londoner who stops at Charing Cross to weep for a medieval queen's funeral instead of going about his business.
A Neurotic (n.) is much like anyone else; he falls ill of the same complexes the healthy struggle with.