There Are Relatively Few Things That Kill

Nothing Good Comes Out Of Depression.

Once A Restless Or Frayed Mood Has Turned To Anger, Or Violence, Or Psychosis, Richard, Like Most, Finds It Very Difficult To See It As Illness, Rather Than Being Willful, Angry, Irrational Or Simply Tiresome.

It Was As If My Father Had Given Me, By Way Of Temperament, An Impossibly Wild, Dark, And Unbroken Horse. It Was A Horse Without A Name, And A Horse With No Experience Of A Bit Between Its Teeth. My Mother Taught Me To Gentle It; Gave Me The Discipline And Love To Break It; And- As Alexander Had Known So Intuitively With Bucephalus- She Understood, And Taught Me, That The Beast Was Best Handled By Turning It Toward The Sun.

I Realized That It Was Not That I Didn’t Want To Go On Without Him. I Did. It Was Just That I Didn’t Know Why I Wanted To Go On

There Is A Particular Kind Of Pain, Elation, Loneliness, And Terror Involved In This Kind Of Madness. When You're High It's Tremendous. The Ideas And Feelings Are Fast And Frequent Like Shooting Stars....but, Somewhere, This Changes. The Fast Ideas Are Far Too Fast, And There Are Far Too Many; Overwhelming Confusion Replaces Clarity. Everything Previously Moving With The Grain Is Now Against-you Are Irritable, Angry, Frightened, Uncontrollable....it Will Never End, For Madness Carves Its Own Reality.