In a strange way we were free. We'd reached the end of the line. We had nothing more to lose. Our privacy, our liberty, our dignity: all of this was gone and we were stripped down to the bare bones of our selves

It is easy to slip into a parallel universe. There are so many of them: worlds of the insane, the criminal, the crippled, the dying, perhaps of the dead as well. These worlds exist alongside this world and resemble it, but are not in it.

A thought is a hard thing to control.

Was everybody seeing this stuff and acting as though they weren't? Was insanity just a matter of dropping the act?

My family had a lot of characteristics - achievements, ambitions, talents, expectations - that all seemed to be recessive in me.

Mental illness seems to be a communication problem between interpreters one and two.

... now I was safe, now I was really crazy, and nobody could take me out of there.