A fever is in me and drives me away. My mind has ben kept so tightly shut for years.
A first visit to a madhouse is always a shock.
About me as a schoolgirl, people only wished that I would be more diligent, and that is certainly what I did become!
Above all, I want to handle the transference more freely.
As a rule children provide little information but confirm what we have guessed when we tell them.
As soon as animals began to talk, or fairies and witches or ghost to appear, my attention flagged and disappeared.
As we walk fearfully in dark places, guided by only the touch of our hands, so we seem to stand blindly in life, circled by doubt of foreignness in things.
Can you imagine that I was a whiney child? I was promised a present if I did not whine all day.
Candidates of one and the same training analyst behave in the transference as if they were real siblings; they compare themselves with each other.
Children usually do not blame themselves for getting lost.
Create around one at least a small circle where matters are arranged as one wants them to be.
Creative minds have always been known to survive any kind of bad training.
Even toward my public, I was always careful.
Everyone here says in a surprised manner that I have grown... they are so stupid and do not notice that I am standing up straighter!
Everything becomes so problematic because of basic faults: from a discontent with myself.
Have you no longer any strength, so that you must tally up all my failings?
He has no luck with me. I can be with him in a friendly way very well, but I am not suitable for marriage. I am no better for a table, or a sofa.
How can one know anything at all about people?
How one can live without being able to judge oneself, criticize what one has accomplished, and still enjoy what one does, is unimaginable to me.
I am glad Sophie is getting married, because the unending quarrel between us was horrible for me.
I am glad that I do not have any children.
I am like a mother, who her own child weakens with too much love.
I am no longer afraid to say anything.
I am only under my father's influence, and I try to think of myself as an independent person.
I am pleased to be acquiring a degree of independence in the eyes of other people. Otherwise I would prefer to give and serve than to acquire and to demand.
I am surprised only that all of you are not here.
I am very much ashamed, especially in front of Papa, and I tell him nothing about it.
I do not succeed in doing something to or for others without also immediately wanting to have something for myself.
I don't believe that it will make a great deal of difference at home when I am not there any longer. I think only I would feel the difference.
I don't know why with me everything takes so long.
I don't stop scooping up time, as I lean over its stream.
I dreamed I had to defend a milk farm belonging to us. But my sword was broken so that I was ashamed in front of the enemy.
I feel like I carry a double load now, and it is especially so because I am required to do a man's tasks in the Vienna Society.
I find more and more that life is better than I thought it would be.
I find office work so terribly boring that I cannot endure it. I have instead started to translate a book.
I have had two older sisters myself and remember well what an upsetting experience it was when they married, while I was absent from home so that I missed the whole ceremony.
I have headaches now very often, almost every day, and I somehow never get over the fear that something could turn out very badly.
I have kept an attraction to circuses ever since I was 4 or 5 years old.
I have long known that many people already have taken flight from their own egos.
I live here beyond my means being virtuous and well behaved, even though analysis teaches you that it will come out somewhere as hostility.
I made the graceful little speech at the luncheon. I did it to please Papa and it was my first effort in English. He was very pleased with it.
I now dream every night that I became blind. It was absolutely terrible, but I have dreamed it often.
I realize how great is the difference between what I would like to be and how I really am.
I see again how much closer one comes to all these things if one discusses them rather than trying to swallow them down by reading.
I want not only to make them healthy but also to have them, or at least have something of them, for myself.
I want to be a reasonable person or at least become one, but I can't always help myself alone.
I was always looking outside myself for strength and confidence but it comes from within. It is there all the time.
I was angry that Papa traveled without me. For so long now I have undertaken nothing in order not to leave him behind, and then he suddenly became adventurous and went away when I was not able to move about.
I wondered a great deal what it was, for I am not really sick. I hope that whatever I had will not recur.
I would never believe in anybody who judges a situation with a lot of emotion and all from one side.
I would very much like to become a member of a psychoanalytic association before this year's Congress.
I, without any future, have so much here, more than many people get altogether, in a whole life.
If I have a stupid day, everything looks wrong to me.
If some longing goes unmet, don't be astonished. We call that Life.
In the end you forget how wretched the condition of the mentally ill really is.
In the long run, this is a stupid way to live.
It is only when parental feelings are ineffective or too ambivalent or when the mother's emotions are temporarily engaged elsewhere that children feel lost.
My different personalities leave me in peace now.
My father praised me and comforted me. That made me so happy that nothing else mattered.
My father used to say that there is no reason to expect that somebody would go on forever with his positive actions just because he had begun them.
My interest is not in the individual people but in the analytic movement as a whole.
My mother observed no rules, she made her own rules.
Neither I nor my classmates were able to read and translate even a simple Hebrew sentence.
Once it seemed to me that I could play Fate, so I studied for some years.
Others understand things better when they distance themselves from the human beings and put things in coldly theoretical terms.
Papa always makes it clear that he would like to know me as much more rational and lucid than the girls and women he gets to know during his analytic hours.
Papa continually emphasizes how much remains unexplained. With the other psychoanalytic writers, everything is always so known and fixed.
Papa requires that when one speaks with him one does not stop after telling only half the information.
Papa wanted to show me so many things and I wanted to share his seeing them again with him.
Pencils and pens in any form are favorites of mine. Nothing ever fascinated me as much as the shops where they were on display.
Repulsed by things, you turned your longing in on yourself.
Sometimes the most beautiful thing is precisely the one that comes unexpectedly and unearned.
That which I complained about in myself is some layers deeper than you imagine.
The selection of leadership must follow practical considerations. Maybe I look at things too pessimistically?
There is the matter of sleep, which never tallies up to the proper amount at the end of the week. I have a terrible desire to take a little vacation.
There must be others who confirm me.
Things are not as we would like them to be. There is only one way to deal with it, namely to try and be all right oneself.
We all listened spellbound to the revelations made by the patients, their dreams, delusions, fantastic systems.
We are aware only of the empty space in the forest, which only yesterday was filled with trees.
We are imprisoned in the realm of life, like a sailor on his tiny boat, on an infinite ocean.
We had a chance to witness fever therapy. I remember well my student year in the psychiatric clinic in Vienna. What I saw there has remained with me.
We live trapped, between the churned-up and examined past and a future that waits for our work.
What I have always wanted for myself is much more primitive. It is probably nothing more than the affection of the people with whom I am in contact, and their good opinion of me.
Who promised you that only for joy were you brought to this earth?
Why do we go around acting as though everything was friendship and reliability when basically everything everywhere is full of sudden hate and ugliness?
Working has become remarkably easy for me in recent years. I have always been able not to make such a demand on my patients.
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