It is as if my life were magically run by two electric currents: joyous positive and despairing negative--which ever is running at the moment dominates my life, floods it.

I have the choice of being constantly active and happy or introspectively passive and sad. Or I can go mad by ricocheting in between.

I wanted to tell her that if only something were wrong with my body it would be fine, I would rather have anything wrong with my body than something wrong with my head, but the idea seemed so involved and wearisome that I didn’t say anything. I only burrowed down further in the bed.

There is an increasing market for mental hospital stuff. I am a fool if I don't relive it, recreate it.

I want to live and feel all the shades, tones, and variations of mental and physical experience possible in my life. And I am horribly limited.

Many so-called disorders of the mind are simply disorders of thought.