I Have Never Written A Word That

The Insane Asylum On Blackwell’s Island Is A Human Rat-trap. It Is Easy To Get In, But Once There It Is Impossible To Get Out.

On The Wagon Sped, And I, As Well As My Comrades, Gave A Despairing Farewell Glance At Freedom As We Came In Sight Of The Long Stone Buildings.

Never Having Failed, I Could Not Picture What Failure Meant.

I Have Watched Patients Stand And Gaze Longingly Toward The City They In All Likelihood Will Never Enter Again. It Means Liberty And Life; It Seems So Near, And Yet Heaven Is Not Further From Hell

But Here Let Me Say One Thing: From The Moment I Entered The Insane Ward On The Island, I Made No Attempt To Keep Up The Assumed Role Of Insanity.