Depression is not sobbing and crying and giving vent, it is plain and simple reduction of feeling.

I think living the blessed life is the luck of the draw.

The small seed of despair cracks open and sends experimental tendrils upward to the fragile skin of calm holding him together.

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.

For me being depressed means you can spend all day in bed, and still not get a good night's rest.

Life is not a series of pathetic, meaningles actions. Some of them are so far from pathetic, so far from meaningless as to be beyond reason, maybe beyond forgiveness.

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.