Anna Freud (December 3, 1895 – October 9, 1982) was the sixth and last child of Sigmund Freud and Martha Bernays. Born in Vienna, she followed the path of her father and contributed to the newly born field of psychoanalysis. Alongside Melanie Klein, she may be considered the founder of psychoanalytic child psychology: as her father put it, child analysis 'had received a powerful impetus through "the work of Frau Melanie Klein and of my daughter, Anna Freud"'. Compared to her father, her work emphasized the importance of the ego and its ability to be trained socially. (Click here for full Wikipedia article)
A first visit to a madhouse is always a shock.
Children usually do not blame themselves for getting lost.
Create around one at least a small circle where matters are arranged as one wants them to be.
Creative minds have always been known to survive any kind of bad training.
Everything becomes so problematic because of basic faults: from a discontent with myself.
How can one know anything at all about people?
How one can live without being able to judge oneself, criticize what one has accomplished, and still enjoy what one does, is unimaginable to me.
I was always looking outside myself for strength and confidence but it comes from within. It is there all the time.
If some longing goes unmet, don't be astonished. We call that Life.
In our dreams we can have our eggs cooked exactly how we want them, but we can't eat them.
It is only when parental feelings are ineffective or too ambivalent or when the mother's emotions are temporarily engaged elsewhere that children feel lost.
Sometimes the most beautiful thing is precisely the one that comes unexpectedly and unearned, hence something given truly as a present.
Teaching is not only the presentation of facts to students, it is persuading them to be interested in the world, to want to learn about it- a state of mind. If you are to 'lead out' children, you have to persuade them to walk with you.
Things are not as we would like them to be. There is only one way to deal with it, namely to try and be all right oneself.
We are imprisoned in the realm of life, like a sailor on his tiny boat, on an infinite ocean.
We live trapped, between the churned-up and examined past and a future that waits for our work.
Who promised you that only for joy were you brought to this earth?
Why do we go around acting as though everything was friendship and reliability when basically everything everywhere is full of sudden hate and ugliness?