Wholeness (n.) is not achieved by cutting off a portion of one's being, but by integration of the contraries.
Wholeness (n.) is never attained: a man always develops some qualities at the expense of others, and the neglected ones stay infantile.
Wholeness (n.) consists in the union of the conscious and unconscious personality — in a man the conscious bears the masculine sign while the unconscious is by nature feminine.
Wholeness (n.) is of immeasurable extent, older and younger than consciousness and enfolding it — we say and do things whose meaning we grasp only later, if ever.
Wholeness (n.) leaving the unconscious always leaves one of its four behind, held fast by the unconscious's greed — "One, two, three — but where is the fourth?"
Wholeness (n.) looks like an abstract idea but is empirical: the psyche anticipates it in mandalas dreamed by people who have never heard of them.
Wholeness (n.) is not perfection: the Christ-image is as good as perfect, while the archetype of the self is complete but far from perfect.
Wholeness (n.) is forced on us against all our conscious strivings: one may strive for perfection but must suffer the opposite of his intentions to become whole.
Wholeness (n.) is perforce paradoxical in its manifestations — two fishes swimming in opposite directions.
Wholeness (n.) is sought by the most important and least conspicuous of the instincts — one that frees itself only with great effort from contamination by sex and power, which can always appeal to everyday facts.
Wholeness (n.) is the answer to 'What can I do?': 'Become what you have always been' — the wholeness we always were without knowing it.
Wholeness (n.) is the longing of religious need, which therefore lays hold of the images of wholeness the unconscious offers.
Wholeness (n.) requires one to stake one's whole being: there are no easier conditions, no substitutes, no compromises.
Wholeness (n.) is reached only by the longissima via — not straight but snakelike, through fateful detours and wrong turnings.
Wholeness (n.) is the very thing we most fear: we theorize about it glibly, and in actual life give it the widest possible berth.
Wholeness (n.) is a grace no art or cunning can manufacture; one can only grow into it and bear whatever its coming brings.
Wholeness (n.) and not perfection is the call of a life that would round itself out — and for that the thorn in the flesh is needed.
Wholeness (n.) is cause for anxiety, for man as a whole being casts a shadow: the fourth was not banished to the everlasting fire for nothing.
Wholeness (n.) is realized for a moment only — the moment Faust was seeking all his life; only time and space here and now make reality.
Wholeness (n.) belongs to homo totus, the sinfully whole man forgotten by one-sided modern man — he causes the tremor of the upper world at every time of upheaval, for he ever is as he was, while the other is what he is only for the moment.