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M. Lenoir à 80 ans: I don't believe this! Who moved my dentures again?
Moenner, the psychotherapist: Must one be sick to be healed?
Moenner, the psychotherapist: Sure, anyone who sees a shrink really needs help.
Eglantine Laville: I want to make love, not get laid.
Moenner, the psychotherapist: A stroller sees a butterfly emerging from its cocoon. He can't resist the pleasure of helping it out. He opens the cocoon gently and the butterfly appears. Great, no? Except that... Robbed of an effort which braces its wings, it can't fly and gets eaten.
Moenner, the psychotherapist: Say you fall into a manure pit, what do you do?
Moenner, the psychotherapist: Exactly. You climb out of the shit. Take a long shower. Figure out how you fell in. And only then read up on shit.
Moenner, the psychotherapist: I see many clients whose problems go back but they keep landing in manure pits. Some even dig them, fill them, jump in and say they were pushed.
Moenner, the psychotherapist: Never had a tender/cruel friend? It's the most delicious relation. Caress. Slap. Caress. Slap. It's good for the circulation.
Eglantine Laville: You don't have an alcoholic mother and an absent father.
Moenner, the psychotherapist: You're right, I don't know how it is. I was lucky. I had a hysterical mother and several unfit fathers. Want to switch?
Moenner, the psychotherapist: Conducting a therapy isn't operating a machine, it's working with a human being, and a human being is deep, complex, unpredictable. Sometimes you don't see it through. I just have to accept it.
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