Words Waiting To Have Meaning

I take great care of myself by carefully shutting myself away.

I can shake off everything as I write; my sorrows disappear, my courage is reborn.

All sorts of things in this world behave like mirrors.

They were soft, they had never faced any fire. They were beautiful nothing's. They made me sick.

Remember, remember, this is now, and now, and now. Live it, feel it, cling to it. I want to become acutely aware of all I've taken for granted.

All these people drinking lover's spit.

Why do I write. Perhaps in order not to go mad. Or, on the contrary, to touch the bottom of madness.

Everything is held together with stories. That is all that is holding us together, stories and compassion.

The psychiatrist approached the mess without proper respect for the mess, Garp thought. The psychiatrist's objective was to clear the head; it was Garp's opinion this was usually accomplished by throwing away all the messy things. That is the simpelst way to clean up, Garp knew. The trick is to use the mess - to make the messy things work for you.

There was no one Garp tended to sneer at as much as he sneered at psychiatrists - those dangerous simplifiers, those thieves of a person's complexity. To Garp, psychiatrists were the despicable end of all those who couldn't clean up their own messes.