Mike > Mike's Quotes

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  • #1
    David Foster Wallace
    “The so-called ‘psychotically depressed’ person who tries to kill herself doesn’t do so out of quote ‘hopelessness’ or any abstract conviction that life’s assets and debits do not square. And surely not because death seems suddenly appealing. The person in whom Its invisible agony reaches a certain unendurable level will kill herself the same way a trapped person will eventually jump from the window of a burning high-rise. Make no mistake about people who leap from burning windows. Their terror of falling from a great height is still just as great as it would be for you or me standing speculatively at the same window just checking out the view; i.e. the fear of falling remains a constant. The variable here is the other terror, the fire’s flames: when the flames get close enough, falling to death becomes the slightly less terrible of two terrors. It’s not desiring the fall; it’s terror of the flames. And yet nobody down on the sidewalk, looking up and yelling ‘Don’t!’ and ‘Hang on!’, can understand the jump. Not really. You’d have to have personally been trapped and felt flames to really understand a terror way beyond falling.”
    David Foster Wallace

  • #2
    Elizabeth Wurtzel
    “Some friends don't understand this. They don't understand how desperate I am to have someone say, I love you and I support you just the way you are because you're wonderful just the way you are. They don't understand that I can't remember anyone ever saying that to me. I am so demanding and difficult for my friends because I want to crumble and fall apart before them so that they will love me even though I am no fun, lying in bed, crying all the time, not moving. Depression is all about If you loved me you would.”
    Elizabeth Wurtzel, Prozac Nation

  • #3
    Barbara Kingsolver
    “There is no point treating a depressed person as though she were just feeling sad, saying, 'There now, hang on, you'll get over it.' Sadness is more or less like a head cold- with patience, it passes. Depression is like cancer.”
    Barbara Kingsolver, The Bean Trees

  • #4
    Hunter S. Thompson
    “No More Games. No More Bombs. No More Walking. No More Fun. No More Swimming. 67. That is 17 years past 50. 17 more than I needed or wanted. Boring. I am always bitchy. No Fun — for anybody. 67. You are getting Greedy. Act your old age. Relax — This won't hurt”
    Hunter S. Thompson

  • #5
    Ned Vizzini
    “I waste at least an hour every day lying in bed. Then I waste time pacing. I waste time thinking. I waste time being quiet and not saying anything because I'm afraid I'll stutter.”
    Ned Vizzini, It's Kind of a Funny Story

  • #6
    Elizabeth Wurtzel
    “Some catastrophic moments invite clarity, explode in split moments: You smash your hand through a windowpane and then there is blood and shattered glass stained with red all over the place; you fall out a window and break some bones and scrape some skin. Stitches and casts and bandages and antiseptic solve and salve the wounds. But depression is not a sudden disaster. It is more like a cancer: At first its tumorous mass is not even noticeable to the careful eye, and then one day -- wham! -- there is a huge, deadly seven-pound lump lodged in your brain or your stomach or your shoulder blade, and this thing that your own body has produced is actually trying to kill you. Depression is a lot like that: Slowly, over the years, the data will accumulate in your heart and mind, a computer program for total negativity will build into your system, making life feel more and more unbearable. But you won't even notice it coming on, thinking that it is somehow normal, something about getting older, about turning eight or turning twelve or turning fifteen, and then one day you realize that your entire life is just awful, not worth living, a horror and a black blot on the white terrain of human existence. One morning you wake up afraid you are going to live.

    In my case, I was not frightened in the least bit at the thought that I might live because I was certain, quite certain, that I was already dead. The actual dying part, the withering away of my physical body, was a mere formality. My spirit, my emotional being, whatever you want to call all that inner turmoil that has nothing to do with physical existence, were long gone, dead and gone, and only a mass of the most fucking god-awful excruciating pain like a pair of boiling hot tongs clamped tight around my spine and pressing on all my nerves was left in its wake.

    That's the thing I want to make clear about depression: It's got nothing at all to do with life. In the course of life, there is sadness and pain and sorrow, all of which, in their right time and season, are normal -- unpleasant, but normal. Depression is an altogether different zone because it involves a complete absence: absence of affect, absence of feeling, absence of response, absence of interest. The pain you feel in the course of a major clinical depression is an attempt on nature's part (nature, after all, abhors a vacuum) to fill up the empty space. But for all intents and purposes, the deeply depressed are just the walking, waking dead.

    And the scariest part is that if you ask anyone in the throes of depression how he got there, to pin down the turning point, he'll never know. There is a classic moment in The Sun Also Rises when someone asks Mike Campbell how he went bankrupt, and all he can say in response is, 'Gradually and then suddenly.' When someone asks how I love my mind, that is all I can say too”
    Elizabeth Wurtzel, Prozac Nation

  • #7
    William Shakespeare
    “Most friendship is feigning, most loving mere folly.”
    William Shakespeare, As You Like It

  • #8
    Charles Bukowski
    “jan was an excellent fuck...she had a tight pussy and she took it like it was a knife that was killing her.”
    Charles Bukowski, Factotum

  • #9
    George Burns
    “Sex at age 90 is like trying to shoot pool with a rope.”
    George Burns

  • #10
    George Carlin
    “It was my uncle who taught me about the birds and the bees. He sat me down one day and said, 'Remember this, George, the birds fuck the bees.' Then he told me he once banged a girl so hard her freckles came off.”
    George Carlin, Brain Droppings

  • #11
    Vladimir Nabokov
    “I recall certain moments, let us call them icebergs in paradise, when after having had my fill of her –after fabulous, insane exertions that left me limp and azure-barred–I would gather her in my arms with, at last, a mute moan of human tenderness (her skin glistening in the neon light coming from the paved court through the slits in the blind, her soot-black lashes matted, her grave gray eyes more vacant than ever–for all the world a little patient still in the confusion of a drug after a major operation)–and the tenderness would deepen to shame and despair, and I would lull and rock my lone light Lolita in my marble arms, and moan in her warm hair, and caress her at random and mutely ask her blessing, and at the peak of this human agonized selfless tenderness (with my soul actually hanging around her naked body and ready to repent), all at once, ironically, horribly, lust would swell again–and 'oh, no,' Lolita would say with a sigh to heaven, and the next moment the tenderness and the azure–all would be shattered.”
    Vladimir Nabokov, Lolita

  • #12
    Robert Byrne
    “Anybody who believes that the way to a man's heart is through his stomach flunked geography. ”
    Robert Byrne
    tags: food, men, sex

  • #13
    Clive Barker
    “Any fool can be happy. It takes a man with real heart to make beauty out of the stuff that makes us weep.”
    Clive Barker, Abarat: Days of Magic, Nights of War

  • #14
    Ned Vizzini
    “I can't eat and I can't sleep. I'm not doing well in terms of being a functional human, you know?”
    Ned Vizzini, It's Kind of a Funny Story

  • #15
    Pablo Neruda
    “I can write the saddest poem of all tonight.

    Write, for instance: "The night is full of stars,
    and the stars, blue, shiver in the distance."

    The night wind whirls in the sky and sings.

    I can write the saddest poem of all tonight.
    I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too.

    On nights like this, I held her in my arms.
    I kissed her so many times under the infinite sky.

    She loved me, sometimes I loved her.
    How could I not have loved her large, still eyes?

    I can write the saddest poem of all tonight.
    To think I don't have her. To feel that I've lost her.

    To hear the immense night, more immense without her.
    And the poem falls to the soul as dew to grass.

    What does it matter that my love couldn't keep her.
    The night is full of stars and she is not with me.

    That's all. Far away, someone sings. Far away.
    My soul is lost without her.

    As if to bring her near, my eyes search for her.
    My heart searches for her and she is not with me.

    The same night that whitens the same trees.
    We, we who were, we are the same no longer.

    I no longer love her, true, but how much I loved her.
    My voice searched the wind to touch her ear.

    Someone else's. She will be someone else's. As she once
    belonged to my kisses.
    Her voice, her light body. Her infinite eyes.

    I no longer love her, true, but perhaps I love her.
    Love is so short and oblivion so long.

    Because on nights like this I held her in my arms,
    my soul is lost without her.

    Although this may be the last pain she causes me,
    and this may be the last poem I write for her.”
    Pablo Neruda

  • #16
    Stephenie Meyer
    “My first feeling was that there was no way to continue. Writing isn't like math;in math, two plus two always equals four no matter what your mood is like. With writing, the way you feel changes everything.”
    Stephenie Meyer, Midnight Sun [2008 Draft]

  • #17
    Ned Vizzini
    “I didn't want to wake up. I was having a much better time asleep. And that's really sad. It was almost like a reverse nightmare, like when you wake up from a nightmare you're so relieved. I woke up into a nightmare.”
    Ned Vizzini, It's Kind of a Funny Story

  • #18
    Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
    “Every man has his secret sorrows which the world knows not; and often times we call a man cold when he is only sad.”
    Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

  • #19
    Anne Frank
    “I'm currently in the middle of a depression. I couldn't really tell you what set it off, but I think it stems from my cowardice, which confronts me at every turn.”
    Anne Frank, The Diary of a Young Girl

  • #20
    Bret Easton Ellis
    “…there is an idea of a Patrick Bateman, some kind of abstraction, but there is no real me, only an entity, something illusory, and though I can hide my cold gaze and you can shake my hand and feel flesh gripping yours and maybe you can even sense our lifestyles are probably comparable: I simply am not there. It is hard for me to make sense on any given level. Myself is fabricated, an aberration. I am a noncontingent human being. My personality is sketchy and unformed, my heartlessness goes deep and is persistent. My conscience, my pity, my hopes disappeared a long time ago (probably at Harvard) if they ever did exist. There are no more barriers to cross. All I have in common with the uncontrollable and the insane, the vicious and the evil, all the mayhem I have caused and my utter indifference toward it, I have now surpassed. I still, though, hold on to one single bleak truth: no one is safe, nothing is redeemed. Yet I am blameless. Each model of human behavior must be assumed to have some validity. Is evil something you are? Or is it something you do? My pain is constant and sharp and I do not hope for a better world for anyone. In fact, I want my pain to be inflicted on others. I want no one to escape. But even after admitting this—and I have countless times, in just about every act I’ve committed—and coming face-to-face with these truths, there is no catharsis. I gain no deeper knowledge about myself, no new understanding can be extracted from my telling. There has been no reason for me to tell you any of this. This confession has meant nothing….”
    Bret Easton Ellis, American Psycho

  • #21
    Bret Easton Ellis
    “I'm into, oh murders and executions mostly. It depends.”
    Bret Easton Ellis, American Psycho

  • #22
    Bret Easton Ellis
    “I stare into a thin, web-like crack above the urinal's handle and think to myself that if I were to disappear into that crack, say somehow miniaturize and slip into it, the odds are good that no one would notice I was gone. No... one... would... care. In fact some, if they noticed my absence, might feel an odd, indefinable sense of relief. This is true: the world is better off with some people gone. Our lives are not all interconnected. That theory is crock. Some people truly do not need to be here.”
    Bret Easton Ellis, American Psycho

  • #23
    Bret Easton Ellis
    “I like to dissect girls. Did you know I'm utterly insane?”
    Bret Easton Ellis, American Psycho

  • #24
    Bret Easton Ellis
    “Everything failed to subdue me. Soon everything seemed dull: another sunrise, the lives of heroes, falling in love, war, the discoveries people made about each other. The only thing that didn't bore me, obviously enough, was how much money Tim Price made, and yet in its obviousness it did. There wasn't a clear, identifiable emotion within me, except for greed and, possibly, total disgust. I had all the characteristics of a human being - flesh, blood, skin, hair - but my depersonalization was so intense, had gone so deep, that the normal ability to feel compassion had been eradicated, the victim of a slow, purposeful erasure. I was simply imitating reality, a rough resemblance of a human being, with only a dim corner of my mind functioning. Something horrible was happening and yet I couldn't figure out why - I couldn't put my finger on it.”
    Bret Easton Ellis, American Psycho

  • #25
    Bret Easton Ellis
    “A young girl, a freshman, I met in a bar in Cambridge my junior year at Harvard told me early one fall that “Life is full of endless possibilities.” I tried valiantly nog to choke on the beer nuts I was chewing while she gushed this kidney stone of wisdom, and I calmly washed them down with the rest of a Heineken, smiled and concentrated on the dart game that was going on in the corner. Needless to say, she did not live to see her sophomore year.That winter, her body was found floating in the Charles River, decapitated, her head hung from a tree on the bank, her hair knotted around a low-hanging branch, three miles away.”
    Bret Easton Ellis, American Psycho

  • #26
    “Everest has attracted its share of men like these. Their mountaineering experience varied from none at all to very slight - certainly none of them had the kind of experience which would make an ascent of Everest a reasonable goal. Three things they all had in common: faith in themselves, great determination, and endurance.”
    Walt Unsworth, Everest

  • #27
    “But there are men for whom the unattainable has a special attraction. Usually they are not experts: their ambitions and fantasies are strong enough to brush aside the doubts which more cautious men might have. Determination and faith are their strongest weapons. At best such men are regarded as eccentric; at worst, mad...”
    Walt Unsworth, Everest: A Mountaineering History

  • #28
    Federico Gamboa
    “A novelist is really nothing more than an historian of a people who have no history.”
    Federico Gamboa

  • #29
    Brian MacLearn
    “There are many types of pain. The only one that aspirin won't help is a hurting heart. That's why there is alcohol.”
    Brian MacLearn

  • #30
    Lana Del Rey
    “No one compares to you, but there's no you, except in my dreams tonight.”
    Lana Del Rey



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