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.
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.
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 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.
I notice when I'm on these trips, I read like mad. It's the only thing that seems to center me, bring me back to remembering who I am. Or forgetting who I am!
You have to live your life according to what comforts you, not what the rest of your family thinks you ought to be doing.
Don't put anyone out of your heart, there's room for all.
Always good to have one crazy in the family ... It takes the pressure off everybody else.
Make peace with what is.
Jesus but people got weird when they lived alone.
... the monotonous beauty of wealth.
To have a reason to get up in the morning, it is necessary to have some kind of guiding principle. A belief of some kind
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.
...let the emotional weight of a scene rest on the dialogue wherever possible. This is the easy way to avoid overinterpretation, which seems to be what turns a scene from sympathetic to sentimental.
The small seed of despair cracks open and sends experimental tendrils upward to the fragile skin of calm holding him together.
. . . 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.
Writers don't write to inform other people, they write to find out something themselves.
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.
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