Sigmund Freud Quotes

One hates a person for the same reason one loves him

What interests me are the complexities and contradictions and struggles and joys of messy human beings.

It's the people we love the most who can make us feel the gladdest ... and the maddest! Love and anger are such a puzzle!

I loved my mother, but I don't like her.

I've always been interested in people, but I've never liked them.

Inside the family, you can go from hate to passivity to extreme love within the same hour.

It seems we are capable of immense love and loyalty, and as capable of deceit and atrocity. It's probably this shocking ambivalence that makes us unique.

Relationships with parents, grandparents, friends, and siblings were important to me when I was young and have remained so throughout my life. Our relationships with other people both shape and reflect who we are. These relationships are infinitely fascinating to explore!

There's so much saint in the worst of them, and so much devil in the best of them, that a woman who's married to one of them, has nothing to learn of the rest of them.

People are mostly layers of violence and tenderness wrapped like bulbs, and it is difficult to say what makes them onions or hyacinths.

And in part that's good but then, like any emotion - and this is something we learned from the research as well - there are positive and negative aspects to all of these.

As your enemies and your friends, so are you

People always tell me either A. you love him. B. you hate him. My usual answer? C. All of the above.

I mean, it’s stupid to miss someone you didn’t even get along with. But I don’t know, it was nice, you know, having someone you could always fight with.

Who can be wise, amazed, temperate and furious, Loyal and neutral, in a moment? No man.

There is a little boy inside the man who is my brother... Oh, how I hated that little boy. And how I love him too.

There are two classes of human beings in this world: one class seem made to give love, and the other to take it.

Do you know my friend that each one of us is a dark mystery, a maze of conflicting passions and desire and aptitudes?

Love is the root of all joy and sorrow.

Nature in causing reason and the passions to be born at one and the same time apparently wished by the latter gift to distract man from the evil she had done him by the former, and by only permitting him to live for a few years after the loss of his passions seems to show her pity by early deliverance from a life that reduces him to reason as his sole resource.

Yet she likes complications. She wishes she could turn and say: I like people who unbalance me.

I think this is interesting, us human creatures are capable of love, and it's a very powerful emotion. It also can go awfully wrong.

Maybe we all live life at too high a pitch, those of us who absorb emotional things all day, and as mere consequence we can never feel merely content: we have to be unhappy, or ecstatically, head-over-heels happy, and those states are difficult to achieve within a stable, solid relationship.

My emotional life: dialectic between craving for privacy and need to submerge myself in a passionate relationship to another.