The Unconscious (n.) is fittingly pictured as subterranean regions when it must appear in a dream.
The Unconscious (n.) yokes every train of thought to its contradictory opposite.
The Unconscious (n.) is indestructible: its paths never fall into disuse, and like the ghosts of the Odyssey they wake to new life as soon as they taste blood.
The Unconscious (n.) is, in its oldest sense, a process in ourselves that we must infer from its effects, as we infer the mind of another person.
The Unconscious (n.) is most conveniently denied, since no one wants to get to know his own.
The Unconscious (n.) can react upon another person's unconscious without passing through consciousness.
The Unconscious (n.) holds the thing alone; a conscious presentation is the thing plus its word.
The Unconscious (n.) is, in its plainest sense, what memory proves: an idea absent from consciousness that is still somewhere in the mind.
The Unconscious (n.) is, in its third and fullest sense, not a quality of ideas but a system of the mind with its own laws.