Carl Jung Quotes

What could he mean by speaking so, as if I were always thinking that he cared for me, when I know he does not; he cannot. ... But I won't care for him. I surely am mistress enough of myself to control this wild, strange, miserable feeling

For years I have endeavored to calm an impetuous tide -- laboring to make my feelings take an orderly course -- it was striving against the stream.

Wise people may say what they will, but one passion is never cured by another.

The mind scolds the heart, which makes excuses and goes its own way.

I had to hold my head up high and put a bold face on things, but the thoughts keep coming anyways.

i am a limitless series of natural disasters and all of these disasters have been unnaturally repressed.

A man who has not passed through the inferno of his passions has never overcome them.

Emotions are my weakness. It is in my blood. It is very difficult to control.

My fire is my gift and my curse. I harness it 95% of the time, but the 5% I don't, it works against me.

I can sometimes feel like I'm an aggressive man inside. I'm not going to show that on social media.

I have existential worries inside of me, but I don't always know how to express them all the time.

Everyone is battling something emotional behind closed doors - that's life.

It's been so long since I've let myself feel anger that I don't just feel it. It covers my mouth and I swallow it down, the taste sharp and metal as though I'm gnawing through foilware.

She looked at his young face, so full of concern and tenderness; and she remembered why she had run away from everyone else and sought solitude here. She yearned to kiss him, and she saw the answering longing in his eyes. Every fiber of her body told her to throw herself into his arms, but she knew what she had to do. She wanted to say, I love you like a thunderstorm, like a lion, like a helpless rage; but instead she said: "I think I'm going to marry Alfred.

I am well in body although considerable rumpled up in spirit.

Passion alone could destroy passion. All the thinking in the world could not make so much as a dent in its surface.

Your soul is oftentimes a battlefield, upon your reason and your judgment wage war against your passion and your appetite.

He knew that he was the stuff of which fanatics and madmen are made and that he had turned his destiny as if with his bare will. He kept himself upright on a very narrow line between madness and emptiness and when the time came for him to lose his balance he intended to lurch toward emptiness and fall on the side of his choice.

Sometimes for me not throwing a tantrum is what running a marathon or swimming the English Channel must be like for others of a less-challenging emotional nature.

She wept with shame for her lack of will and with fear for a love she couldn't control.

There was a disturbance in my heart, a voice that spoke there and said, I want, I want, I want! It happened every afternoon, and when I tried to suppress it it got even stronger.

You perhaps now know that desire reduces us to pulp.

It is the moment when our resolution seems about to become irrevocable--when the fatal iron gates are about to close upon us--that tests our strength. Then, after hours of clear reasoning and firm conviction, we snatch at any sophistry that will nullify our long struggles, and bring us the defeat that we love better than victory.

These passions of soul, these conflicts so fierce, will cease, and be repressed by the casting of a little dust.