The State (n.) is what we demand everything from, forgetting it consists of the very individuals making the demands; unearned gifts of the group become rights, and the gift becomes a loss.
The State (n.) is an abstraction hypostatized into a quasi-animate personality from whom everything is expected — in reality a camouflage for those who know how to manipulate it.
A State (n.) that protects us from everything also takes away everything that makes life worth living.
A State (n.) becomes the Church as the Church's authority fades, since the totalitarian claim is bound to come out somewhere — where the Church once used faggots, the State uses barbed wire.
The State (n.) is now the old theocracy: the powers of hell, once chained in a spiritual edifice, now build a State prison devoid of spiritual charm.
The State (n.) has replaced the Church as the screen for the parental imagos — universal provider and authority for all thinking and willing — fixed at a level of the herd instinct ruinous to culture.
The State (n.) is the agglomeration of all the nonentities composing it; personified, it would be a monster far below most of its members — mass psychology raised to the nth power.
The State (n.) and the Fuehrer are the tin gods with totalitarian pretensions the enlightened intellect is left with, once projections have fallen away from the divine figures.
The State (n.) has proved the most efficient machine for turning out mass-men; only the individual immunized against the toxin of the mass psyche can help.
The State (n.) is, in Jung's 1936 satire, the ghost of the dethroned ruler: once a crowd called itself a democracy, the old king returned as an invisible being more exacting than any tyrant, draining the most gifted.