“I thought about the days i had handed over to a bottle..the nights i can't remember..the mornings i slept thru..all the time spent running from myself.”

“I spent about eight hours deep in thought over whether to get divorced. That may seem like a long time to ponder something, but I multitasked and slept at the same time. I woke up with an erection, and a decision.”

“That night I slept like a baby. When I woke the next morning I knew I was going to smoke heroin again. Everything that day was enjoyable: sitting on the bus, working all day – it all felt good. It was the best day of my life.”

“I think we should change the amount of time in each day. Sunday thru Friday should be reduced from 24 hours down to ten minutes, and Saturday would become a 167-hour day. That way, when people ask me what I did all week I could truthfully respond, "I slept all week. But I got a hell of a lot done on Saturday.”

“For some nights I slept profoundly; but still every morning I felt the same lassitude, and a languor weighed upon me all day. I felt myself a changed girl. A strange melancholy was stealing over me, a melancholy that I would not have interrupted. Dim thoughts of death began to open, and an idea that I was slowly sinking took gentle, and, somehow, not unwelcome possession of me. If it was sad, the tone of mind which this induced was also sweet. Whatever it might be, my soul acquiesced in it.”

“I did nothing but run away from the time I was a puppy, and I kept on running and roving until one fine morning - a very fine morning, with the sun in my eyes - I fell over the world's edge chasing a butterfly.”