I always remember a letter I received one morning, from a woman who wanted to see me just once in her life.
The letter made a very strong impression on me, I am not quite sure why. I invited her to come and she came.
She was very poor – poor intellectually too.
I don’t believe she had ever finished primary school.
She kept house for her brother; they ran a little newsstand.
I asked her kindly if she really understood my books which she said she had read. And she replied in this extraordinary
way “Your books are not books, Herr Professor. They are bread.”
And the little traveling salesman of women’s things who stopped me in the street and looked at me with immense eyes, saying “Are you really the man who writes those books? Are you truly the one who writes about these things no one knows? ~C.G. Jung Speaking, Page 402.