Bob Dole Quotes

I had a lot of frustrations, and I was drinking far too much, and I was just trying to survive and this is what came out of it.

Why am I so soft in the middle when the rest of my life is so hard?

As I write, I control my anxiety and anguish thanks to the invaluable aid of irony and humor. But every night I am subdued by an anxiety that knows no irony, and I must wait until the next day to rediscover the blend of anguish and humor that characterizes my writing and that generates my style.

It is typical of women to fester and ferment over disappointments, slights, annoyances, angers, etc.

I try to focus on using my energy to change things, but there are times when I feel so bad.

You're heading for a breakdown. Why don't you pull yourself to pieces?

To suffer some anxiety, some depression, some disappointment, even some failure is normal.

Here's what breaks us: Even though we know better, we still want everything to be all right.

I still have highs and lows, maybe I don't cry salty tears as much.

Sometimes I want to clean up my desk and go out and say, respect me, I'm a respectable grown-up, and other times I just want to jump into a paper bag and shake and bake myself to death.

All of us know someone who has been through difficult emotional times, and we know how hard it can be to see a way forward.

I don't think that talking to anybody can help you - a writer or a nonwriter. So what do I do in Wisconsin? I don't know. I just slug through it.

I was in so much emotional pain as a young girl that whatever distracted me from how I felt about myself was fine by me.

It's a daily struggle for me to stay alive. I don't mean to be melodramatic, hyperbolic, or go into my broadcast mode. But even that, my career is bipolar.

I couldn't deal with a normal life.

For me, I think one of the biggest battles is mentally. You have good days, and you have bad days. Randomly, you'll feel good for weeks, and then all of a sudden, you'll have a bad day where you're really sore. And you end up questioning yourself, like, 'Am I doing the right thing? Why is this so hard?'

There are such wonderful blessings in my life - I have this amazing baby, an amazing family, and I loved X Factor - all these moments of joy, and then these sharp drop-offs. I'd be awake, lying in bed, crying. There's these weird moments of misplaced anger I have.

What could he mean by speaking so, as if I were always thinking that he cared for me, when I know he does not; he cannot. ... But I won't care for him. I surely am mistress enough of myself to control this wild, strange, miserable feeling

I don't know what I'm supposed to do now. I know other people have it a lot worse. I do know that, but it's crashing in anyway, and I just can't stop thinking that the little kid eating french fries with his mom in the shopping mall is going to grow up and my sister.

Please don't tell me to relax, it's only my tension that's holding me together.

This is the forked tongue of grief again. It whispers in one ear: return to what you once loved best, and in the other ear it whispers, move on.

Sometimes it made her want to put her fist through glass; other times, it made her cry a river.

Some emotions cannot be endured with a golf club in your hands.

I had to hold my head up high and put a bold face on things, but the thoughts keep coming anyways.