Black Books


1 have received your sprout, you who are to come, I have received it in deepest need and lowliness, I covered it in shabby patchwork and bedded it down on words of straw, and the mockers grinningly worshipped it, your child, your wondrous child, the child of one who is to come, who should announce the father, a fruit that is older than the tree on which it grew.

In pain were you conceived, lust glowed around your birth.  ~Carl Jung, The Black Books, Vol. II, Page 177