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Quote by Victor LaValle

“Randolph Maddix, a schizophrenic who lived at a private home for the mentally ill in Brooklyn, was often left alone to suffer seizures, his body crumpling to the floor of his squalid room. The home, Seaport Manor, is responsible for 325 starkly ill people, yet many of its workers could barely qualify for fast-food jobs. So it was no surprise that Mr. Maddix, 51, was dead for more than 12 hours before an aide finally checked on him. His back, curled and stiff with rigor mortis, had to be broken to fit him into a body bag.” THE NEW YORK TIMES April 28, 2002”

Quote by Victor LaValle

Work

The Devil in Silver

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Author

Victor LaValle
Victor LaValle

Victor LaValle is an American author known for his unique literary style and profound thematic explorations. His works often blend elements of fantasy, horror, and realism, addressing issues such as race, class, and social justice. more

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“I was shocked and terrified to hear Dr. Summer say I had what was formerly known as multiple personality disorder. Is that like Sybil? Am I like the woman in The Three Faces of Eve? My head began to spin. What do I have inside of me? Is there a crazy person in there? What am I? I felt like a freak. I was afraid to have anyone know. I have a mental illness. People make fun of people like me. Upon hearing my diagnosis, I stopped thinking of myself as smart, creative, or clever. Even though Dr. Summer had worked hard to help me understand that I had developed an amazingly adaptive survival technique, I no longer thought of it that way at all. I was overwhelmed by fear and shame. The words multiple personality disorder echoed in my mind. I thought of all the ways people with multiple personalities were ridiculed and marginalized: They're locked away in mental institutions. They are really sick. I'm not going to be the subject of people's jokes. I am a lawyer. I work at the U.S. Department of Justice. The more I thought about it, the deeper my despair grew.”

“Ogarnęło go poczucie beznadziejności - beznadziejności oswojonej i ciepłej, przez co jeszcze bardziej beznadziejnej. Zatrzymał się przy oknie. Ścieżka ginęła w jesiennym dywanie opadłych liści i w mroku: była tak blisko i zarazem tak daleko, jak Paryż, jak Byt, jak Wolność. Wyrzekł się tych prostych życiowych ścieżek częściowo z własnej woli, częściowo wbrew niej. Natura była abstraktem, snem. Rzeczywistość natomiast zamykała się tutaj, między korytarzykiem, pielęgniarzem i salą.”

“For now, you will be confined to your room until you earn privileges.' 'Privileges?' He nodded. 'Once we start working together and you show a willingness to cooperate, we can add privileges to your daily program. Outside time, personal items, television, phone--those kinds of things.' He checked his watch while I stared at him in horror. Privileges? As in out-frickin'-side time? I was in prison!”