Depression Quotes
Overly positive, horrendously cheerful people can make a depressed person even more depressed. In fact, perhaps the least helpful thing one can say to a depressed person is, "Cheer up!"
Perhaps the saddest irony of depression is that suicide happens when the patient gets a little better and can again function sufficiently.
The greatest benefit of depression is the fact that when I have talked about it, every so often someone comes up and says, you saved my dad's life.
I realized that I had a serious problem with depression, and I went to a doctor and he gave me some medication.
Boredom is a blessing when it leads you to wisdom. And boredom is a curse when it leads you to frustration and depression.
It seemed silly to wash one day when I would only have to wash again the next. It made me tired just to think of it.
To get up in the morning, wash and then wait for some unforeseen variety of dread or depression. I would give the whole universe and all of Shakespeare for a grain of ataraxy.
By virtue of depression, we recall those misdeeds we buried in the depths of our memory. Depression exhumes our shames.
It is by all odds the loftiest of cities. It even managed to reach the highest point in the sky at the lowest moment of the depression.
A guy I interviewed for Hard Times says, "What do I remember about the Great Depression? That I was hungry, that's all." Elemental things.
It was deeply a part of Lee's kindness and understanding that man's right to kill himself is inviolable, but sometimes a friend can make it unnecessary
I wanted a heaven. And I grew up striving for that world-- an eternal world- that would wash away my temporary misery.
I would die for you. You know that. I would die without you. If it were not for you, I would be dead a hundred times over these past five years.
I don't want to do anything. I don't even want to start this day because then I'll just be expected to finish it.
Some days I am the flower beneath the machine. And the machine rolls slowly on, blocking the sun, without a care for what it tramples beneath.
Talking to a therapist, I thought, was like taking your clothes off and then taking your skin off, and then having the other person say, "Would you mind opening up your rib cage so that we can start?
Everything was usual. That was depression: being stuck, clinging to an out-of-date version of oneself.
Dishonoring what we feel is an epidemic that has us self-medicating as a culture and trying to numb ourselves.
I had been born shoved to the margins of the world, sure, but I had volunteered for the pits.
It still amazes him how they could have been misled by her personality in Year Eleven. It's what depression does to a person, it changes them completely.
You didn't get past something like that, you go through it -- and for that reason alone, I understood more about her than she ever would have guessed.
Perhaps depression is caused by asking oneself too many unanswerable questions.
Last time I talked to her she didn't sound like herself. She's depressed. It's awful what happens when people run out of money. They start thinking they're no good.
I use the music to vent, and a lot of the stuff that I am writing about or was writing about contained a lot of anger and anxiety, stress and depression, so that's how the album came out so dark.
It doesn't hurt. Nothing hurts except the small smiles and blushes that flash across the room like tiny sparrows.
I pull my lower lip all the way in between my teeth. If I try hard enough, maybe I can gobble my whole self this way.... I didn't try hard enough to swallow myself.
Therapy is not to 'talk about' things, but to change the person's life, and to relieve suffering, such as depression, anxiety, or relationship problems.
It's as if a child with a brush and too much enthusiasm has been set free with a tin of black paint inside me.
I stuff my mouth with old fabric and scream until there are no sounds left under my skin.
He knows bad days. Bad days take him completely by surprise. They make him not trust the good days because it's likely something is lurking twenty-four hours away.
I suffered from post-natal depression after Rowan was born. I had a healthy, beautiful baby girl and I couldn't look at her. I couldn't hold her, smile at her. All I wanted was to disappear and die.
He had the feeling that there was something physically behind his eyes, blocking the light.
The years of the economic depression have been years of political reaction, and that is why the economic crisis has generated a world peace crisis.
A grief without a pang, void, dark and drear, A drowsy, stifled, unimpassioned grief, Which finds no natural outlet or relief, In word, or sigh, or tear.
. . . crazy world or maybe it's just the view we have of it, looking through a crack in the door, never being able to see the whole room, the whole picture.
It weren’t too loo long before I seen something in me, had changed. A bitter seed was planted inside of me. And I just didn’t feel so, accepting, anymore.
In the meantime, I could withdraw to my room, could hide and sleep as if I were dead
They thought depression was like bieng 'depressed'. They thought it was like being in a bad mood, only worse. Therefore, they tried to get him to snap out of it.
She went to the window seat and sat there, sniffling, hating them all, and herself most of all. It was all her fault, everything bad that had happened.
It would be nice if life worked this way, stripping the dirt from our lives and sending us back out into the world clean. But some dirt is destined to lingered.
When he kisses me, I cry. I explain it's not because I wish he were someone else, it's because it's such a shock to the system to be desired after feeling so completely abandoned.