How tired God must be of guilt and loneliness, for that is all we ever bring to Him.
Your children tell you casually years later what it would have killed you with worry to know at the time.
What you have become is the price you paid to get what you used to want.
The head never rules the heart, but just becomes its partner in crime.
How strange that the young should always think the world is against them – when in fact that is the only time it is for them.
A hypochondriac is one who has a pill for everything except what ails him.
Cash is the one gift everyone despises and no one turns down.
It does not undo harm to acknowledge that we have done it; but it undoes us not to acknowledge it.
Of all second-class citizens, neurotics are the only ones who are so by choice.
The way the neurotic sees it: bars on his door mean that he’s locked in; bars on your door mean that he’s locked out.
The neurotic thinks himself both Hamlet and Claudius, in a world that belongs to Polonius.
The neurotic believes that life has meaning, but that his life hasn’t.
Money: in its absence, we are coarse; in its presence, we are vulgar.
When their children fail to charm others, few parents can stay neutral.
Being neurotic is like shooting fish in a barrel, and missing them.
Neurotics would like to sleep all the time, and to be awakened only when there is good news.
Men gossip less than women, but mean it.
The neurotic listens to weather reports about Small Craft Warnings, and he thinks: They’re talking about me.
Neurotics are anxiety prone, accident prone, and often just prone.
Neurotics are sure that no one understands them, and they wouldn’t have it any other way.