The madness of depression is, generally speaking, the antithesis of violence. It is a storm indeed, but a storm of murk. Soon evident are the slowed-down responses, near paralysis, psychic energy throttled back close to zero. Ultimately, the body is affected and feels sapped, drained.

The good writing of any age has always been the product of someone's neurosis, and we'd have a mighty dull literature if all the writers that came along were a bunch of happy chuckleheads.

It's fine therapy for people who are perpetually scared of nameless threats as I am most of the time — for jittery people.

The pain of severe depression is quite unimaginable to those who have not suffered it.

The madness of depression is, generally speaking, the antithesis of violence. It is a storm indeed, but a storm of murk. Soon evident are the slowed-down responses, near paralysis, psychic energy throttled back close to zero. Ultimately, the body is affected and feels sapped, drained.

Every writer since the beginning of time, just like other people, has been afflicted by what a friend of mine calls

we each devise our means of escape from the intolerable.