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

Was insanity just a matter of dropping the act?

You have to have a somewhat cold heart to be a writer.

It was my misfortune-or salvation-to be at all times perfectly conscious of my misperceptions of reality.

Are you crazy? It's a common phrase, I know. But it means something particular to me: the tunnels, the security screens, the plastic forks, the shimmering, ever-shifting borderline that like all boundaries beckons and asks to be crossed. I do not want to cross it again.

Our hospital was famous and housed many great poets and singers. Did the hospital specialize in poets and singers or was it that poets and singers specialized in madness?

I think many people kill themselves simply to stop the debate about whether they will or they won't.