I could not contemplate whit any sort of comfort a life without work. Creative imagination and work go together with me; I take not delight in anything else. That would be a prescription for happiness were it not for the terrible thought that one's productivity depended on sensitive moods. What is one to do on a day when thoughts cease to flow and proper words won't come? One cannot help trembling at the possibility. Thats is why, despite the acquiescence in fate that becomes an upright man, I secretly: no infirmity, no paralysis of one's powers through bodily. We'll die with harness on, as King Macbeth said.Sigmund Freud
