Memory is essential to who we are, and memories can be both implicit and explicit - unconscious and conscious.

Every sickness has an alien quality, a feeling of invasion and loss of control that is evident in the language we use about it.

Memory changes as a person matures.

Good books, written by men or women, are ones in which you lose consciousness of the person writing the sentences.

Pain is always emotional. Fear and depression keep constant company with chronic hurting.

Dreams are stories made by and for the dreamer.

Intellectual curiosity about one's own illness is certainly born of a desire for mastery. If I couldn't cure myself, perhaps I could at least begin to understand myself.