I like to imagine a person's psyche to be like a boardinghouse full of characters. The ones who show up regularly and who habitually follow the house rules may not have met other long-term residents who stay behind closed doors, or who only appear at night. An adequate theory of character must make room for character actors, for the stuntmen and animal handlers, for all the figures who play bit parts and produce unexpected acts. They often make the show fateful, or tragic, or farcically absurd.

It's the only way we can get out of being so human-centered: to remain attached to something other than humans.

Depression opens the door to beauty of some kind.

I don't think anything changes until ideas change. The usual American viewpoint is to believe that something is wrong with the person.

To hope for nothing, to expect nothing, to demand nothing. This is analytical despair.

The circumstances, including my body and my parents, whom I may curse, are my soul's own choice and I do not understand this because I have forgotten

By seeing differently, we do differently