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Quote by Marya Hornbacher

“He is the most wonderful person alive. I am suddenly struck by the fact that he is unlike anyone else in the world. How many people could love me like this? How many people would visit every day at six o'clock, without fail? And bring me dinner, and a grocery bag of fruit? Who could? Who would? Why would they?”

Book:Madness: A Bipolar Life

Work

Madness: A Bipolar Life

This book offers an intimate look into the life of someone living with bipolar disorder, detailing the challenges, triumphs, and emotional landscapes associated with the condition. more

Author

Marya Hornbacher

Marya Hornbacher is an American author known for her memoirs, which offer profound insights into mental health and the struggles of marginal lifestyles. Born on April 4, 1974, her works are based on her own experiences, including severe eating disorders and mental health issues. more

“Schizophrenia rolls in like a slow fog, becoming imperceptibly thicker as time goes on. At first, the day is bright enough, the sky is clear, the sunlight warms your shoulders. But soon, you notice a haze beginning to gather around you, and the air feels not quite so warm. After a while, the sun is a dim lightbulb behind a heavy cloth. The horizon has vanished into a gray mist, and you feel a thick dampness in your lungs as you stand, cold and wet, in the afternoon dark.”

Madness Schizophrenia

Book:The Center Cannot Hold: My Journey Through Madness

Source: The Center Cannot Hold: My Journey Through Madness

“Your prints can never be erased. Each one is burned in my memory, and only if my memory fails me, perhaps then, like the moonlight, it will fade by the arrival of a new day. I do not like to hide the madness of it all. You know I was willing to stay with you, but I am also accepting to let you go.”

Memories Letting Go Madness

Author:Rolf van der Wind

“A goods train was approaching. The platform shook, and it seemed to her as if she were again in the train. Suddenly remembering the man who had been run over the day she first met Vronsky, she realized what she had to do. Quickly and lightly descending the steps that led from the water-tank to the rails, she stopped close to the passing train. She looked at the bottom of the trucks, at the bolts and chains, and large iron wheels of the slowly-moving front truck, and tried to estimate the middle point between the front and back wheels, and the moment when that point would be opposite her. She wanted to fall half-way between the wheels of the front truck, which was drawing level with her, but the little red handbag which she began to take off her arm delayed her, and then she was too late. The middle had passed her. She was obliged to wait for the next truck. A feeling seized her like that she had experienced when preparing to enter the water in bathing, and she crossed herself. The familiar gesture of making the sign of the cross called up a whole series of girlish and childish memories, and suddenly the darkness, that obscured everything for her, broke, and life showed itself to her for an instant with all its bright past joys. But she did not take her eyes off the wheels of the approaching second truck, and at the very moment when the midway point between the wheels drew level, she threw away her red bag, and drawing her head down between her shoulders threw herself forward on her hands under the truck, and with a light movement as if preparing to rise again, immediately dropped on her knees. And at the same moment she was horror-struck at what she was doing. ‘Where am I? What am I doing? Why?’ She wished to rise, to throw herself back, but something huge and relentless struck her on her head and dragged her down. ‘God forgive me everything!’ she said, feeling the impossibility of struggling… A little peasant muttering something was working at the rails. The candle, by the light of which she had been reading that book filled with anxieties, deceptions, grief and evil, flared up with a brighter light, lit up for her all that had before been dark, crackled, began to flicker, and went out for ever.”

Madness Suicide Jealousy

Book:ANNA KARENINA

Source: ANNA KARENINA

“I have been afraid of you, Mr. Robert Audley," she thought, "but perhaps the time may come in which you will have cause to be afraid of me.”