“Ev­ery last minute of my life has been pre­or­dained, and I’m sick and tired of it.”

“Here in the bath­room with me are ra­zor blades. Here is io­dine to drink. Here are sleep­ing pills to swal­low. You have a choice. Live or die. Ev­ery breath is a choice. Ev­ery minute is a choice. To be or not to be.”

“Every last minute of my life has been preordained and I'm sick and tired of it.How this feels is I'm just another task in God's daily planner: the Italian Renaissance penciled in for right after the Dark Ages....The Information Age is scheduled immediately after the Industrial Revolution. Then the Postmodern Era, then the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse. Famine. Check. Pestilence. Check. War. Check. Death. Check. And between the big events, the earthquakes and the tidal waves, God's got me squeezed in for a cameo appearance. Then maybe in thirty years, or maybe next year, God's daily planner has me finished.”

“Ev­ery phone call I get fills me with joy and ter­ror since this could be the case­work­er or the killer.”

“Then all you can do is get lost in the tiny de­tails of ev­ery day do­ing the same tasks over and over.”

“I was tired and crazy and rushed, and every time I boarded a plane, I wanted the plane to crash. I envied people dying of cancer. I hated my life. I was tired and bored with my job and my furniture, and I couldn’t see any way to change things.Only end them.”

“Everybody's trying to make every minute of the present last forever. Preserve every second.”