When both she and I had to deal with our respective demons, my sister saw the darkness as being within and part of herself, the family and the world. I, instead, saw it as a stranger; however lodged within my mind and soul the darkness became, it almost always seemed an outside force that was at war with my natural self.

God only knew what ran underneath the fierce self-discipline and emotional control that had come with my upbringing. But the cracks were there, I knew it, and they frightened me.

كان علىّ أن أحاول أن أوفق بين فكرتي عن نفسي كإنسانة تتكلم بهدوء ومنضبطة تماما, إنسانة على الأقل حساسة عموما لأمزجة ومشاعر الآخرين.. وبين امرأة ساخطة ومجنونة تماما وفاقدة لكل منافذ السيطرة على النفس والتفكير العقلاني

الشعور بأنك طبيعي لأي فترة طويلة ممتدة يعطيك آمالًا يتضح -تقريبًا بثبات- أنها مكتوبة على الماء!

It took me far too long to realize that lost years and relationships cannot be recovered. That damage done to oneself and others cannot always be put right again.

I think wanting to write is a fundamental sign of disease and discomfort. I don't think people who are comfortable want to write ...

There is a particular kind of pain, elation, loneliness, and terror involved in this kind of madness. When you're high it's tremendous. The ideas and feelings are fast and frequent like shooting stars....But, somewhere, this changes. The fast ideas are far too fast, and there are far too many; overwhelming confusion replaces clarity. Everything previously moving with the grain is now against-you are irritable, angry, frightened, uncontrollable....It will never end, for madness carves its own reality.