Sarah Addison Allen Quotes

My soul is dark with stormy riot: directly traced over to diet.

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.

How sick i am! that thought Always comes to me with horror. Is it this strange for everybody? But such fugitive feelings have always been my metier.

Mattie sat at the table, obsessing, orbiting around herself. She was sick of her worried, hostile mind. It would have killed her long before, she felt, if it hadn't needed the transportation.

Perspective [is] a luxury when your head [is] constantly buzzing with a swarm of demons.

I was an emotional basket case.

People have so much pain inside them that they're not even aware of.

The root of the problem I have is anxiety, and it's all derived from something - I'm just going to say it, some kind of sadness. It manifests in so many different ways and it affects people differently.

Melancholy is the nurse of frenzy.

Anxiety is our agitated soul scrambling for control.

It's weird, I was such a survivor and so wanted to be a part of life while I was trying to snuff out the life that was inside of me. I had this duality of trying to kill myself with drugs, then eating really good food and exercising and going swimming and trying to be a part of life. I was always going back and forth on some level.

Not treasured wealth, nor the consul's lictor, can dispel the mind's bitter conflicts and the cares that flit, like bats, about your fretted roofs.

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.

Look at it this way: There are many here among us for whom the life force is best represented by the livid twitching of one tortured nerve, or even a full-scale anxiety attack. I do not subscribe to this point of view 100 percent, but I understand it, have lived it. Thus the shriek, the caterwaul, the chainsaw gnarlgnashing, the yowl and the whizz that decapitates may be reheard by the adventurous or emotionally damaged as mellifluous bursts of unarguable affirmation.

She was as one who, in madness, was resolute to throw herself from a precipice, but to whom some remnant of sanity remained which forced her to seek those who would save her from herself.

Worry is a mean-faced dwarf who beats on your heart like a kettledrum.

Most self-laceration is more noisy than painful.

I want to live but I want to die. What do I do?

Mental anguish always results from the avoidance of legitimate suffering.

A child of broken mind, the fear that I hide behind.

I feel very troubled in the head and heart.

I must do something or I shall wear my heart away.

Mental wounds not healing, who and what's to blame. I'm going off the rails on a crazy train.

I have my own demons and dark moods. It's weird.

I never will have peace of mind. I'm not constructed that way. Some things in life can be horrible.