I see myself as one would see another. I have been cut in two.
I'm an empress. I wear an apron. My typewriter writes. It didn't break the way it warned. Even crazy, I'm as nice as a chocolate bar.
I had developed manic depression [bipolar disorder] ... and the main symptoms the constant voice in the head telling you to kill yourself.
I may have looked happy but inside I was hopelessly depressed.
Pain of mind is worse than pain of body.
I live in Venice Beach so I see this all day, every day. Some people just ignore people with mental illness, pretend they're not there. They don't say "good morning" to them; they don't act like they're human. They'll get locked up, or just ignored. It's just awful.
A pool of melancholy blooms in my chest and rushes into my body like deep-blue blood.
A person of any mental quality has ideas of his own. This is common sense.
Any breakdown is a breakthrough.
A delusion held by one person is a mental illness, held by a few is a cult, held by many is a religion.
You're never too old to be crazy.
Some of the very greatest gifts bring an inevitable downside which you cannot "cure" without curing the gift at the same time.
The difference between a healthy person and one who is mentally ill is the fact that the healthy one has all the mentall illnesses, and the mentally ill person has only one.
We must stop criminalizing mental illness. It's a national tragedy and scandal that the L.A. County Jail is the biggest psychiatric facility in the United States.
Occupying my mind with complex problems has been my best and most powerful and most reliable defense against my mental illness.
Men, I would like to take this opportunity to extend your formal invitation. … Gender equality is your issue, too. … I've seen young men suffering from mental illness, unable to ask for help, for fear it would make them less of a men—or less of a man. I've seen men made fragile and insecure by a distorted sense of what constitutes male success. Men don't have the benefits of equality, either.
So, because I have a mental illness I should disappear and hide? Ever since I went into hospital, all I have heard and read about is people telling me what they think I should do.
That's where depression hits you most - your home life. It doesn't affect your work. I can't do this zany, wacky, funny thing any more. I haven't been like that for a long time.
I felt suicidal. I couldn't stop crying. I remember thinking, wouldn't it be great if the car crashed and I died?
My twenties were a write-off. It's a cruel illness, because you can't see it and you can hide it so well.
The absurdly neurotic role you and the rest of your kind have always attributed to me Erato, the Goddess Muse of Erotic Poetry bears no relation at all to reality. As a matter of fact, I was trained as a clinical psychologist. Who simply happens to have specialized in the mental illness that you, in your ignorance, call literature.
I realized that I had granted my illness lordship over me. In viewing my depression as a despot subjecting me to its savage fancies, I was able to escape responsibility, to indulge fully my selfish desire to let my ego flourish unfettered, not obliged to anyone. But this wasn't freedom. It was a prison-a cell separating me from those who cared for me and for whom I might have cared.
I could feel myself begin to recede, to tip and lose balance, slide toward the deeper darkness that had crept in from outside. It happened so quickly and took me by surprise; sometimes I just turned around and found it there-ah, camarade-unaware it had been waiting for me for days.
... I feel tired to death, paralyzed by this mysteriously wasted life's stubborn concentration on hopelessness and dissolution. It occurs to me that if I lie still like this for long enough, then I'll be dead when I finally wake again, and nothing can ever again torment me, beset me, or present me with evidence of my baseness and decay. That thought is the only one that can comfort me.
I wondered if I was just the sum of my brain scan, little dots clustered in my frontal lobe. Is that where the poems came from? The desire to destroy myself? This last depression had scared me. It had come on so quickly, not like the gradual woolgathering in my brain I had known before.
Follow AzQuotes on Facebook, Twitter and Google+. Every day we present the best quotes! Improve yourself, find your inspiration, share with friends
or simply: