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my brain had begun to endure its familiar siege: panic and dislocation, and a sense that my thought processes were being engulfed by a toxic and unnameable tide that obliterated any enjoyable response to the living world.
William Styron
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William Styron
Age: 81 †
Born: 1925
Born: June 11
Died: 2006
Died: November 1
Military Personnel
Novelist
Writer
Newport News
Virginia
William Clark Styron
Jr.
World
Familiar
Siege
Endure
Tide
Response
Toxic
Brain
Enjoyable
Living
Begun
Unnameable
Process
Tides
Engulfed
Sense
Processes
Obliterated
Thought
Panic
Dislocation
More quotes by William Styron
The weather of Depression is unmodulated, its light a brownout.
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Every writer since the beginning of time, just like other people, has been afflicted by what a friend of mine calls
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My life and work have been far from free of blemish, and so I think it would be unpardonable for a biographer not to dish up the dirt.
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I'm simply the happiest, the placidest, when I'm writing, and so I suppose that that, for me, is the final answer. ... It's fine therapy for people who are perpetually scared of nameless threats as I am most of the time.
William Styron
This was not judgment day - only morning. Morning: excellent and fair.
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A great book should leave you with many experiences, and slightly exhausted at the end. You live several lives while reading.
William Styron
I have learned to cry again and I think perhaps that means I am a human being again. Perhaps that at least. A piece of human being but, yes, a human being.
William Styron
In the absence of hope we must still struggle to survive, and so we do-by the skin of our teeth.
William Styron
The madness of depression is, generally speaking, the antithesis of violence. It is a storm indeed, but a storm of murk. Soon evident are the slowed-down responses, near paralysis, psychic energy throttled back close to zero. Ultimately, the body is affected and feels sapped, drained.
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Reading - the best state yet to keep absolute loneliness at bay.
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A great book should leave you with many experiences.
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Depression is a disorder of mood, so mysteriously painful and elusive in the way it becomes known to the self -- to the mediating intellect-- as to verge close to being beyond description. It thus remains nearly incomprehensible to those who have not experienced it in its extreme mode.
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Writers ever since writing began have had problems, and the main problem narrows down to just one word - life.
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Let's face it, writing is hell.
William Styron
The mornings themselves were becoming bad now as I wandered about lethargic, following my synthetic sleep, but afternoons were still the worst, beginning at about three o'clock, when I'd feel the horror, like some poisonous fog bank roll in upon my mind, forcing me into bed.
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Wickedly funny to read and morally bracing as only good satire can be.
William Styron
In Paris on a chilling evening late in October of 1985 I first became fully aware that the struggle with the disorder in my mind - a struggle which had engaged me for several months - might have a fatal outcome.
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I felt the exultancy of a man just released from slavery and ready to set the universe on fire.
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I felt a kind of numbness, an enervation, but more particularly an odd fragility - as if my body had actually become frail, hypersensitive and somehow disjointed and clumsy, lacking normal coordination. And soon I was in the throes of a pervasive hypochondria.
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In depression . . . faith in deliverance, in ultimate restoration, is absent. The pain is unrelenting, and what makes the condition intolerable is the foreknowledge that no remedy will come - - not in a day, an hour, a month, or a minute . . . It is hopelessness even more than pain that crushes the soul.
William Styron
