I still get awful depression. It's who I am.

How to make God laugh? Tell Him your plans.

I'm proud of what I write and feel endorsed by my readers.

It was only when the salt water of my tears ran into my cuts and made them sting that I discovered I was crying.

Besides, I'd seen a really nice pair of shoes yesterday in the mall and I wanted them for my own. I can't describe the feeling of immediate familiarity that rushed between us. The moment I clapped eyes on them I felt like I already owned them. I could only suppose that we were together in a former life. That they were my shoes when I was a serving maid in medieval Britain or when I was a princess in ancient Egypt. Or perhaps they were the princess and I was the shoes. Who's to know? Either way I knew that we were meant to be together.

Why do we have such a finite capacity for pleasure but an infinite one for pain?

I still get awful depression. It's who I am.