“I am too sick to be out of bed, too crazy to sleep, and am surrounded by horrors.”

“I find out a lot about myself by sleeping. Dreams, they are who I am when I’m too tired to be me.”

“I cannot sleep unless I am surrounded by books.”

“Too sick and freaked out not to want a bullet for every passer by, too sick and freaked out to breathe, too sick and freaked out to care, too sick and freaked out to think of anything but the annihilation of my mind and denial of my life. So sick and freaked out that I think everyone is my friend.”

“I wanted to pray for an hour, but I keep thinking and thinking, and always sick thoughts, and my head aches - what is the use of praying? - it's only a sin! It is strange, too, that I am not sleepy: in great, too great sorrow, after the first outbursts one is always sleepy. Men condemned to death, they say, sleep very soundly on the last night. And so it must be, it si the law of nature, otherwise their strength would not hold out... I lay down on the sofa but I did not sleep...”

“Am I too fast, too facile? I do not know. I do not know myselfsometimes, or how to measure and name and count out thegrains that make me what I am.”