Black Books

Oh this bitterness!

You [Jung’s Soul] have dragged me through sheer and utter Hell, you have tormented me nearly to death- and I long for your thanks.

Yes, I am moved that you thank me.

The hound’s nature lies in my blood.

Therefore I am bitter.

For my sake, since-how does it move you!

You are divine and devilishly great, wherever and howsoever you are.

I am only your prison guard, your eunuch doorkeeper, no less imprisoned than you.

Thrice damned marriage!

Speak, you concubine of Heaven, you divine monster!

Have I not fished you from the swamp?

How do you like the black hole?

Speak without blood, sing from your own force, you have gorged yourself on men.

You deserve my thanks, my deepest thanks. ~Carl Jung, The Black Books, Page 262-263