“In my ears i hear a noise, and this noise is the sound of the color of the sun.”

“what I remember is the silence in spite of the noise. In my head itmight just as well have been a snowy day in the country.”

“All systems have failed me. In fiveminutes I'll be fine again for a while, but right now the inside of my head feels like NiagaraFalls without the noise, just this mist and churning and no real sense of where earth ends andheaven begins.”

“Anna-Louise leans over and whispers in my ear. "This is so surreal," she says, "I think I'm turning into a melting clock.”

“Six silent people in a room got me to thinking about the voice we hear in our heads when we read, the universal narrator's voice you may well be hearing right now. Whose voice *is* it you're hearing? It's not your own, is it? I didn't think so. It never is. So I posed the question out loud...”"...When you read a book, whose voice is it you hear inside your head?" "It's certainly not my own", said Harj, and the others chimed in with the same claim."Then whose it?”

“After my brush with the suicidal impulse, I listen with new ears to others when theyspeak on the subject. I think there are people who were born with that little door open, and theyhave to go through life knowing that they might jump through it at any moment.”

“My mood has changed now. And the sun has gone behind the clouds. I'm in this mood I feel occasionally... this mood where there's a very good friend nearby who I should be phoning. If only I could reach that friend and talk, then everything would be just fine. The dilemma is, of course, I just don't know who that friend is. But in my heart I know my mood is merely me feeling disconnected from my true inner self.”