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.

Love, like life, is much stranger and far more complicated than one is brought up to believe.

I am a huge advocate of prescription drugs given wisely and for the right reasons and the right diagnosis and also psychotherapy.

There are relatively few things that kill people that are young other than car accidents and suicide.

I am reminded of the importance of small kindnesses.

I compare myself with my former self, not with others. Not only that, I tend to compare my current self with the best I have been, which is when I have been midly manic. When I am my present "normal" self, I am far removed from when I have been my liveliest, most productive, most intense, most outgoing and effervescent. In sort, for myself, I am a hard act to follow.