“You write to find out what you believe.”

To grow up is to discover what one is unequal to.

The child can find out what the object ..might be only by finding ..obstacles to its access

We are children for a very long time.

The vocabulary of one’s self-criticism is so impoverished and clichéd.

we are continually under threat from what we are unwilling and/or unable to see.

When we define ourselves by what we can recognize, by what we can comprehend- rather than, say, by what we can describe

Transgression is a quest for solitude

There is always a ..belief that by destroying the thing that we love we destroy our needs

Excesses of appetite are self-cures for feelings of hopelessness. ..

The whole notion of sanity may be an attempt to medicalize morality – to speak of the good in the language of health: to make us more accurate, more scientific in our wanting – but by the same token it becomes a form of moral blackmail.

Tragic heroes are failed pragmatists. Their ends are unrealistic and their means are impractical.

Wanting to be understood, as adults, can be our most violent form of nostalgia.

Believing in religion is like believing that adulthood is the solution to childhood.

We are at our most stupid in our self-hatred.

We have been taught to wish for it, but the wish to be understood may be our most vengeful demand, may be the way we hang on, as adults ,

One thing you discover in psychoanalytic treatment is the limits of what you can change about yourself or your life.

I often considered whether there could perhaps be found a more reasonable arrangement of circles.

I hope you find someone who dances to the beat of your soul, so you never have to sit alone in life while the music plays.

Fluttered open the wings and flew off from my clenched hands; those butterflies always found a way to slip by just like time.

Grant me, O Lord my God, a mind to know you, a heart to seek you, wisdom to find you, conduct pleasing to you, faithful perseverance in waiting for you, and a hope of finally embracing you. Amen

We must love them both, those whose opinions we share and those whose opinions we reject, for both have labored in the search for truth, and both have helped us in finding it.

Once, I found myself breaking down between “its okay” and “its not”.

Find what you would die for and live for it.

Is it love that really binds us? isn’t lust the first to find us? Was my heart so fucking worthless that you threw it all behind us?