Geez, if I could get through to you, kiddo, that depression is not sobbing and crying and giving vent, it is plain and simple reduction of feeling. Reduction, see? Of all feeling. People who keep stiff upper lips find that it's damn hard to smile.
Depression is not sobbing and crying and giving vent, it is plain and simple reduction of feeling.
And if you ever do a survey, you'll find that people prefer illusion to reality, ten to one. Twenty, even.
Make notes—I’ve lost more material than I’ve ever written. Contrary to popular opinion, it’s not still up there in one’s brain. It’s in outer space and it ain’t coming back.
Feeling is not selective, I keep telling you that. You can’t feel pain, you aren’t gonna feel anything else, either.
Writers don't write to inform other people, they write to find out something themselves.
Ours was not a political household, when I was growing up.
And do not be paralyzed. It is better to move than to be unable to move, because you fear loss so much: loss of order, loss of security, loss of predictability.
Make peace with what is.
Life is not a series of pathetic, meaningles actions. Some of them are so far from pathetic, so far from meaningless as to be beyond reason, maybe beyond forgiveness.
Haven't lost your sense of humor after all but your sense of identity is what seems to have been misplaced. No. Wrong. You don't lose what you never had.
I can write for a long time on one novel and not get tired.
I think living the blessed life is the luck of the draw.
I am also working on a couple of short stories for anthologies. This is new to me and Im enjoying it.
With my friends, I don't feel pressure to be someone other than who I am.
Autonomy is the whole thing; it's what unhappy people are missing. They have given the power to run their lives to other people.
Some people with awful cards can be successful because of how they deal with the tragedies they're handed, and that seems courageous to me.
. . . crazy world or maybe it's just the view we have of it, looking through a crack in the door, never being able to see the whole room, the whole picture.
Depending on the reality one must face, one may prefer to opt for illusion.
For me being depressed means you can spend all day in bed, and still not get a good night's rest.
Sometimes you are being interviewed by someone and you think, if I knew this person they'd be my best friend. Other times you're being interviewed by a complete jerk.
Two separate, distinct personalities, not separate at all, but inextricably bound, soul and body and mind, to each other, how did we get so far apart so fast?
People that keep stiff upper lips find that it's hard to smile.
The small seed of despair cracks open and sends experimental tendrils upward to the fragile skin of calm holding him together.
It's always obvious to me when someone is looking at me with an idea of who I am and hoping that that's the person I'm going to be. No matter how subtle it is, it's there, and you want to give them who they really want. But it ain't me.
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