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PASTOR MANDERS: I refuse to discuss such questions with you, Mrs. Alving — not while you're in such an unstable state of mind, But what do you mean by calling yourself a coward just because …
MRS. ALVING: I'll tell you what I mean by it. I'm timid and frightened because I can never be free of the ghosts that haunt me.
PASTOR MANDERS: What do you mean by that?
MRS. ALVING: I'm haunted by ghosts. When I heard Regina and Osvald out there, it was just as if there were ghosts before my very eyes. But I'm inclined to think we're all ghosts, Pastor Manders; it's not only the things we've inherited from our fathers and mothers that live on in us, but all sorts of old dead ideas and old dead beliefs, and things of that sort. They're not actually alive in us, but they're rooted there all the same, and we can't rid ourselves of them. I've only to pick up a newspaper, and when I read it I seem to see ghosts gliding between the lines. I should think there must be ghosts all over the country — as countless as grains of sand. And we are, all of us, so pitifully afraid of the light.
The conference out of which this volume grew marked the tenth anniversary of the final appearance of Heinz Kohut at our deliberations. It was a time to acknowledge how sorely we missed his presence. Our memories turned to Berkeley and we were inevitably reminded of his tearful farewell, a scene of unforgettable heroism and tragic eloquence. Heinz Kohut's departure from our proceedings left