Nothing Good Comes Out Of Depression.

If I Can't Feel, If I Can't Move, If I Can't Think, And I Can't Care, Then What Conceivable Point Is There In Living?

In Depression, Your Capacity To Feel Just Flattens And Disappears And What You Feel Is Pain And A Kind Of Pain That You Can't Describe To Anybody. So It's An Isolating Pain, A Completely Isolating Pain.

Tumultuouness,if Coupled To Discipline And Cool Mind,is Not Such A Bad Sort Of Thing.that Unless One Wants To Live A Stunningly Boring Life,one Ought To Terms With One`s Darker Side Ad One`s Darker Energies

I Long Ago Abandoned The Notion Of A Life Without Storms, Or A World Without Dry And Killing Seasons. Life Is Too Complicated, Too Constantly Changing, To Be Anything But What It Is. And I Am, By Nature, Too Mercurial To Be Anything But Deeply Wary Of The Grave Unnaturalness Involved In Any Attempt To Exert Too Much Control Over Essentially Uncontrollable Forces. There Will Always Be Propelling, Disturbing Elements, And They Will Be There Until, As Lowell Put It, The Watch Is Taken From The Wrist.

Others Would Say To Me, 'it Is Only Temporary, It Will Pass, You Will Get Over It,' But Of Course They Had No Idea How I Felt, Although They Were Certain That They Did. Over And Over And Over I Would Say To Myself, If I Can't Feel, If I Can't Move, If I Can't Think, And I Can't Care, Then What Conceivable Point Is There In Living?