“I felt like I needed to crawl under my blankets.And I did for about an hour. My self-pity always had a time limit because I usually got annoyed with myself.”

“There had been a time when I owned my life and now I felt like I was coming around to myself again. It's like I've finally discovered bones in myself I never knew I had. I discovered that it takes bravery to be one's self. I now know that the only thing I needed to be afraid of was of not finding my true self and having the courage to be me.”

“I had schooled myself since the war-days never to speak of my enthusiasms; when other people did not share them, which was usual, I was hurt and my pleasure diminished; why was I always excited about things other people did not care about? But I could not hold in.”

“I was young I was so young it hurt like a knifeinsidebecause there was no alternative except to hide as longas possible---not in self-pity but with dismay at my limited chance:trying to connect.”

“Did I say stab of Self Pity? No, I was trekking through the Swamp of Self Pity at this point, waist deep in my own stinking shit.”

“It was the first time I had spoken to them directly. In doing so, I felt myself cross a fine but very distinct line, the line between speculating about the existence of a metaphysical plane of some sort and climbing aboard for the ride. I knew I had let go of my sanity. It was terrifying. I only did it because my fear of what was happening to my body had become greater than my fear of holding on to rational beliefs.”