The winters will drive you crazy until you learn to get out into them.
I keep living this day like the next will never come.
I really don't think anything I do is a mistake. It could be if I didn't learn from it.
I'm such an incredibly, stupidly sensitive person that everything that happens to me, I experience it really intensely. I feel everything very deeply. And when you feel things deeply and you think about things a lot and you think about how you feel, you learn a lot about yourself. And when you know yourself, you know life.
It pisses me off to think we're conditioned to push away bad feelings and think anything that's uncomfortable is to be avoided. When things are really bad nowadays, I recognize the value in it because it's me filling my quota- it's going to make my joy more intense later.
At my lowest moments, I think of people who come to shows. I still get very sad and sometimes I feel like I have no friends, but when that happens now, I'll think of people whose names or faces I don't know - they're my friends and they love me. I've got them. It really does save me. I still feel awkward, but that's the one thing I can grab onto at my lowest points.
Nothing that you do will ever feel good if you let people convince you that you have no choice.
Every father is given the opportunity to corrupt his daughter's nature, and the educator, husband, or psychiatrist then has to face the music. For what has been spoiled by the father can only be made good by a father, just as what has been spoiled by the mother can only be repaired by a mother. The disastrous repetition of the family pattern could be described as the psychological original sin, or as the curse of the Atrides running through the generations.
From now on practice saying to everything that appears unpleasant: You are merely an appearance and NOT what you appear to be.
She would only point out the salvation that was latent in his own soul, and in the soul of every man. Only connect! That was the whole of her sermon. Only connect the prose and the passion, and both will be exalted, and human love will be seen at its height. Live in fragments no longer. Only connect, and the beast and the monk, robbed of the isolation that is life to either, will die.
The strands are all there; to the memory nothing is ever lost.