My schedule for today lists a six-hour self-accusatory depression.

…we all lie to ourselves; we tell our own selves more lies than we ever do other people.

Little kids are that way; they feel if their parents aren't watching what they do then what they do isn't real.

It is amazing that when someone else spouts the nonsense you yourself believe you can readily perceive it as nonsense

There is evil! It's actual, like cement. I can't believe it. I can't stand it. Evil is not a view ... it's an ingredient in us. In the world. Poured over us, filtering into our bodies, minds, hearts, into the pavement itself.

The unconscious is selective, when it learns what to listen for.

I never felt like that before. Maybe it could be depression, like you get. I can understand how you suffer now when you're depressed; I always thought you liked it and I thought you could have snapped yourself out any time, if not alone then my means of the mood organ. But when you get that depressed you don't care. Apathy, because you've lose a sense of worth. It doesn't matter whether you feel better because you have no worth.