You care so much you feel as though you will bleed to death with the pain of it.

If a physician of high standing, and one’s own husband, assures friends and relatives that there is really nothing the matter with one but temporary nervous depression—the very worst thing I can do is to think about my condition—what is one to do? . . .
Personally, I disagree with their ideas . . .

What a beautiful mess she left behind.

Eli, Eli, lama sabachthani?

Zeroes count.