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Quote by Michael Bassey Johnson

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Sips And Little Portions

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Michael Bassey Johnson

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“I dont want anybody talking about me. To say where I was or what I said when I was there. I mean, you could talk about me maybe. But nobody could say that it was me. I could be anybody. I think in times like these the less said the better. If something had happened and we were survivors and we met on the road then we'd have something to talk about. But we're not. So we dont.”

ForgottenDisappearIsolationApocalypseAnonymityHermitDrop Out
Book:The Road
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“This and countless later experiences working in and around the world of "shrinks" and the mentally ill has led me to the conclusion that overinterpretation of human psychology can be inadvisable. My favorite Freud joke has him sitting in his gentlemen's club in Vienna after dinner, enjoying a cigar. A hostile colleague wanders up and says, "That's a big, fat, long cigar, Professor Freud," to which Freud replies, "Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar.”

HumorSciencePsychoanalysisFreudMental Health Humor
Book:They F*** You Up: How to Survive Family Life
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“I've had the same version from patients in a slightly different take, which is the patient looking at me with fixed eyes saying "I'm not multiple but I think some of the others are", or alternatively, fixedly, "we're not multiple". So whatever it is about multiple realities it affects us all. - 15 years as the director of a trauma and dissociation unit: Perspectives on Trauma-informed Care”

SkepticismPsychiatryDissociative Identity DisorderDissociationMultiplicityDissociative DisordersSkepticsMultiple RealitiesPsychiatry HumorMental Health Humor
Author:Warwick Middleton
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“Her smile was somehow a little too bright, but I watched as she showed me how she had scored the puff pastry and brushed it with oil. She got me to smell the thyme pressed between her fingers and thumb, and told me how good garlic was for keeping away colds. She preached about food and sang and laughed and baked until the light started to come in the windows. Then we sat and ate hot tart without knives and forks. She kissed my cheeks and smelled like garlic. I remember the hot cheese dropping onto Mama's sweater and drying to a rubbery streak against the wool.”

IngredientsHerbsTomatoesMother And DaughterTartTomato
Book:The Color of Tea
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