People who say ... they're perfectly fine [are] more insane than the rest of us.

You shouldn't run away from your problems, you need to aim straight for the heart of the beast.

You have to be great friends and make each other laugh. We laugh a lot and neither is jealous of the other.

For me mindfulness is like building a house, so the next time the tsunami that is depression comes I'll have a structure in place to resist it.

Mum used to hide love letters from my boyfriends and put me down. Now I understand that she was a Polish immigrant forced to settle in Chicago. She was jealous of the freedom life gave me.

I have to keep reminding myself that I am their mother. Sometimes we are sitting at home and I feel like we are waiting for our mom to come home.

Why, when you have a mental disease, is it always considered an act of imagination? Why is it that every organ in your body can get sick and you get sympathy except the brain?