« Drowning in diffuse suffering. Real moral pains, but without clear or clear causes. The hardest to help in psychotherapy. Perhaps psychoanalysis is the only one that can improve them, if its principle is accepted by the person: in the analysis we do not know where we are going, how, nor if we will be relieved at the exit. Even if, at times, psychoanalysis drowns people in themselves. Even if sometimes it seems that it was just the time that came that brought relief, when it came; and that it is more than a release, wear and tear. But hey, it's still a relief ... Feeling overwhelmed. Through waves of despair, anxiety attacks, puffs of anger, coming from the depths of us, that is, from nowhere. Then it passes, but we did not understand why, and we feel that nothing has really been solved. We just come out relieved, with the fuzzy feeling that a next wave will arrive and again cover us, choke us. Then we will struggle, we will flee into action, work, alcohol, or other things that calm us or divert our attention. Then it'll do it again and again. We will lead a sisyphus existence, not quiet and not happy to be alive, finally. »

« You can also lose your effectiveness, your job performance, or your ability to deal with and solve everyday problems. But in terms of everything we've just mentioned above, we don't care about the effectiveness, do we? In any case, we are not going to make it an absolute value, of this efficiency without soul and without joy: we would prefer an efficiency that embodies and reflects our pleasure to live, our contentment to be something rather than nothing, to be alive rather than dead. For the worst is life without conscience. And the worst of this worst: the moments of awareness of a life without consciousness. Modernity aggravates it, but it is in fact an eternal difficulty of human life, and that is why the verses of the Roman poet Lucretia, contemporary of Spartacus, still resonate in us: "This life that you live, it is only a dead life." Just as these words of the contemporary Éric Chevillard resonate in us, when he speaks of those "days for nothing", those days "when the nerves are not in the grips, when I struggle to lift a wing. In the evening, before passing out in turn, my shadow signs for me with a cross the leaf of presence." Why aren't we here, why don't we live more consciously? Why all these bitter states of mind, like so many awakenings and crank returns related to the feeling of leading an empty life? »

« You greet a friend who leaves in a taxi in the rain. You suddenly feel touched by the density of the moment, totally in the present. You hear all the noises of the street, you feel all the raindrops, you see everything without stopping anything or filtering by thoughts or judgments. You're just greeting that friend who's leaving. You look at his face smiling behind the glass riddled with raindrops, you hope everything will be fine. Time is slow. You suddenly feel the immense fragility of our existences, the immense importance of bonds and affection. You want to chase the taxi to kiss her and greet her even better than you did. But you don't feel worried or melancholy. You just figured something out. That you may forget in the next five minutes, as long as you know it's going to be a busy day. But you are quiet, for the trace placed in you by this moment is indelible. You know that. »