Love has, at its best, made the inherent sadness of life bearable, and its beauty manifest.

The ancient dialogue between reason and the senses is almost always more interestingly and passionately resolved in favor of the senses.

When I am high I couldn't worry about money of I tried. So I don't. The money will come from from somewhere; I am entitled; God will provide. Credit cards are disastrous, personal checks worse. Unfortunately, for manics anyway, mania is a natural extension of the economy.

Never once, during any of my bouts of depression, had I been inclined or able to pick up a telephone and ask a friend for help. It wasn't in me.

The complexities of what we are given in life are vast and beyond comprehension.

I think that for thousands of years people have made the observation that there are certain kinds of extreme depressive states that seem to be more likely to produce philosophers, people in the arts, unusually brilliant scientists.

In some cases, some people do get depressed in the middle of their grief and they really need to be treated for depression.