I really am only one infinitely small part of an aching humanity.

How is it possible for me to be so miserable and embarrassed and humiliated and beaten an function still talk and smile and concentrate?

Maybe the new me will be different.

Why is life so difficult? Why can't we be just ourselves and have everyone accept us the way we are?

I’m really cracking. No, I’m beyond cracking. I’m shattered. I’m lost. I’m fragmented.

They have accepted me as an individual, as a personality, as an entity. I belong! I am important! I am somebody!

I’ve got to sleep. Sleep is my only way to escape.

The voice of every kid hooked on drugs, alcohol or the occult joins the sad chorus "Not me! I didn't think it could ever happen to me. I was sure I could handle it.

Alone. The saddest word in the world.

I'm not really sure which parts of myself are real and which parts are things I've gotten from books.

She didn't know whether she was running away from something or running to something, but she admitted that deep in her heart she wanted to go home.

in the corner of the painting of successthe signature is blurred

You know what days these are? The days of Elijah. We are in the days of Elijah! Fire is falling down from heaven!

Oh yeah, and Spader was hanging out with a penguin" -Bobby Pendragon

The foolish big boys who fight with their toys are so sadly silly.

Mr. Presley has no discernible singing ability.

The ideas of [ Le Corbusier ] that actually found their way into practice were deeply destructive - for instance, the tower-in-a-park, which mutated into the vertical slums of the late 20th century.

When you are tempted to give up, your breakthrough is probably just around the corner.

There is no satisfaction in any good without a companion.

Experimental psychology itself has, it is true, now and again suffered relapse into a metaphysical treatment of its problems.