My own beauty reflected The lake was silent for some time. Finally, it said: "I weep for Narcissus, but I never noticed that Narcissus was beautiful. I weep because, each time he knelt beside my banks, I could see, in the depths of his eyes, my own beauty reflected." Paulo Coelho, The Alchemist Narcissus and Goldmund beautyego
Modern Man in Search of a Soul A Book by Carl Jung en.wikipedia.org He hurries to the attic The Poetics of Space
He hurries to the attic Here the conscious acts like a man who, hearing a suspicious noise in the cellar, hurries to the attic and, finding no burglars there, decides, consequently, that the noise was pure imagination. In reality, this prudent man did not dare venture into the cellar. fearpsychology