I've never had very high regard for therapists. I owe my health, my mental survival, to my friends and loved ones.
If you actually want to change your world, there is a better way of doing it than blowing yourself up.
Whenever someone who knows you disappears, you lose one version of yourself. Yourself as you were seen, as you were judged to be. Lover or enemy, mother or friend, those who know us construct us, and...
We strive for heights bit our natures betray us, Chamcha thought; clowns in search of crowns. The bitterness overcame him
We crave permission openly to become our secret selves.
Things—even people—have a way of leaking into each other, I explain, like flavors when you cook.
The word 'translation' comes, etymologically, from the Latin for 'bearing across'. Having been borne across the world, we are translated men. It is normally supposed that something always gets lost in...
The ruthlessness of the godly invalidated their claims of virtue.
The lessons one learns at school are not always the ones the school thinks it's teaching.
Sometimes by a woodland stream he watched the water rush over the pebbled bed, its tiny modulations of bounce and flow. A woman's body was like that. If you watched it carefully enough you could see h...
She's no flibberti-gibberti mamzell, but a whir-stir-get-lost-sir bundla dynamite!
She says, trying uselessly to console me: 'What are you so long for in your face? Everybody forgets some small things, all the time!'But if small things go, will large things be close behind?
People don't like being around despair. Our tolerance for the truly hopeless, for those who are irredeemably broken by life is strictly limited. The sob stories we like are the ones that end before we...
My horizon's have shrunk and I have only endings to write.
Is history to be considered the property of the participants only?
I'll tell you a secret about fear: it's an absolutist. With fear, it's all or nothing. Either, like any bullying tyrant, it rules your life with stupid blinding omnipotence, or else you overthrow it,...
He knew what he knew: that the real world was full of magic, so magical worlds could easily be real.
From 'The Suicide', a play by the Russian writer Nikolai Erdman: 'Only the dead can say what the living are thinking.
Exile is a dream of glorious return. Exile is a vision of revolution: Elba, not St Helena. It is an endless paradox: looking forward by always looking back. The exile is a ball hurled high into the ai...
During his illness he had spent every minute of consciousness calling upon God, every second of every minute. Ya Allah whose servant lies bleeding do not abandon me now after watching oven me so long....