Kate Millett Quotes

But he [Depression] just gives me that dark smile, settles into my favorite chair, puts his feet on my table and lights a cigar, filling the place with his awful smoke. Loneliness watches and sighs, then climbs into my bed and pulls the covers over himself, fully dressed, shoes and all. He's going to make me sleep with him again tonight, I just know it.

Well, you know, there's depression and depression. What I mean by depression in my own case is that depression isn't just the blues. It's not just like I have a hangover in the weekend ... the girl didn't show up or something like that. It isn't that. It's not really depression, it's a kind of mental violence which stops you from functioning properly from one moment to the next. You lose something somewhere and suddenly you're gripped by a kind of angst of the heart and of the spirit.

I do suffer from depression, I suppose. Which isn't that unusual. You know, a lot of people do.

Depression is so exhausting - it takes up so much of your time and energy - and silence about it, it really does make the depression worse.

Misery loves company, and madness calls it forth.

Depression is the flaw in love. To be creatures who love, we must be creatures who can despair at what we lose, and depression is the mechanism of that despair.

Melancholy suicide. - This is connected with a general state of extreme depression and exaggerated sadness, causing the patient no longer to realize sanely the bonds which connect him with people and things about him. Pleasures no longer attract.

But day after day of depression, the kind that doesn’t seem to merit carting me off to a hospital but allows me to sit here on this stoop in summer camp as if I were normal, day after day wearing down everybody who gets near me. My behavior seems, somehow, not acute enough for them to know what to do with me, though I’m just enough of a mess to be driving everyone around me crazy.

The madness of depression is, generally speaking, the antithesis of violence. It is a storm indeed, but a storm of murk. Soon evident are the slowed-down responses, near paralysis, psychic energy throttled back close to zero. Ultimately, the body is affected and feels sapped, drained.

My mind was bursting with depression and anguish. I muttered imprecations and murmuring as I passed along. I was full of loathing and abhorrence of life, and all that life carries in its train.

Depression on my left, Loneliness on my right. They don't need to show me thier badges. I know these guys very well.

Sadness is more or less like a head cold - with patience, it passes. Depression is like cancer.

I actually found it very moving how destructive depression is. I was really saddened by this burden people have to handle.

When I was suffering with depression, people weren't talking about depression. It had a stigma.

I've always had this term 'mad season' in my head.

Depression is so treacherous - it can be so alluring as well as punishing. After all, it's yours and yours alone - no one else can interfere with it.

I truly, truly suffered depression, to the deep core.

I went through an extreme depression.

The topic is too big, there's too many people who live with it, and too many moving pieces for anyone to do a definitive statement on what depression is like for everyone. 'Depression Quest's' goal was to be a basic introduction to the concept and to get the conversation started.

Depression is real, and that really hit me hard. I was going through a phase where I wasn't talking to no one. Only my son. Me and my son would do stuff, but I was talking to no one.

I think cruelty is just loneliness disguised as bitterness.

That's what depression had wrought inside me: one, vast, barren rock garden-without the garden

But those with shattered souls find it very difficult to speak.

I was in such a state of mental shock and quickly spiraled into a depression at the multitude of loss. My husband, I thought, was going to leave me. I was cut off from this mentor and someone I cared for very much, David Petraeus, who also did nothing to stand up for me and in fact, empowered his surrogates to throw me under the bus, and that was devastating.

This was my one brush with love. Was it love? It felt awful enough. I spent another two years crawling around in the skin of it, smoking too much and growing too thin and having stray thoughts of jumping from my balcony like a tortured heroine in a Russian novel.