Other (n.) shows you what lies neglected in yourself — why do you look to him?
Other (n.) whom we expect to do our task for us turn out to be people just like us, only expert at passing the buck.
The Other (n.) is by nature the adversary that resists harmony: Plato's god had to force the Different into union with the Same when he mixed the world-soul.
The Other (n.) is found within: facing the unconscious means admitting an alien will inside oneself, which the alchemists named Mercurius, duplex, "capable of both."
Other (n.) can be met only in human form: what seems a bird to you is a serpent to him, and what seems a serpent to you is a bird to him.
The Other (n.) pushes away from the One in order to exist at all, while the One clings to it so as not to lose itself; their tension is released only in a third.
Other (n.) is the only thing that leads beyond oneself — so the true way leads not upward but to the depths, from seriousness into the laughable, from the pure into the impure.
The Other (n.) remains at bottom a stranger, even the man we know best who swears we understand him through and through; the best we can do is respect his otherness and not interpret it.
The Other (n.) is worth coming to terms with inside oneself, because it shows aspects of our nature we would let nobody else show us and would never have admitted ourselves; writing it down guards against self-deception.
Other (n.) is no stepping stone for our feet: the need for redemption disguises itself as an increased need to love and make others happy — if we had already reached our purpose, the other would leave us cold.