I find it difficult to be in rooms now for long periods of time. I can usually take it for about an hour. Then I stride out.

I depleted myself to the point where I had nothing left.

I am more greatly moved by people who struggle to express themselves...I prefer the abstract concept of incoherence in the face of great feeling to beautiful, full sentences that convey little emotion.

When I was younger, I made some decisions that I shouldn't have. And, in hindsight, I've almost always been wrong when I haven't listened to myself.

I don't deal at all well with the relative amount of stuff I have to face already.

It's a source of great sadness to me that my father died without having seen me do anything worthwhile. He was constantly having to make excuses for me.

I had a very vivid, almost hallucinatory moment in which I was engaged in a dialogue with my father...