“I bought a house in a depressed neighborhood. The prices weren’t low, but the people were all bummed out.”

“Look at all those cul-de-sacs, the streets that turn in on themselves all the houses that were built to fall apart. All those paper people in their paper houses burning the furniture to stay warm. All the paper kids drinking the beer some bum bought for them at the paper convenience store. Everyone demented with the mania of owning things. All the things paper-thin and paper-frail.”

“The depression belongs to all of us. I think of the family down the road whose mother was having a baby and they went around the neighborhood saying, "We're pregnant." I want to go around the neighborhood saying, "We're depressed." If my mum can't get out of bed in the morning, all of us feel the same. Her silence has become ours, and it's eating us alive.”

“Some wise guys came by my business establishment and tried to offer me neighborhood protection. They weren’t mafia, but they were wearing togas.”

“So things were coming together nicely for me to embark on a full-fledged depression. One good thing about New York is that most people function daily while in a low-grade depression.”

“I bought some batteries, but they weren’t included. So I had to buy them again.”