Knowledge Is Marvelous, But Wisdom Is Even

Love Has, At Its Best, Made The Inherent Sadness Of Life Bearable, And Its Beauty Manifest.

I Have Had Manic-depressive Illness, Also Known As Bipolar Disorder, Since I Was 18 Years Old. It Is An Illness That Ensures That Those Who Have It Will Experience A Frightening, Chaotic And Emotional Ride. It Is Not A Gentle Or Easy Disease.

Suicide Is A Particularly Awful Way To Die: The Mental Suffering Leading Up To It Is Usually Prolonged, Intense And Unpalliated. There Is No Morphine Equivalent To Ease The Acute Pain, And Death, Not Uncommonly, Is Violent And Grisly. The Suffering Of A Suicidal Is Private And Inexpressible, Leaving Family Members, Friends And Colleagues To Deal With An Almost Unfathomable Kind Of Loss, As Well As Guilt. Suicide Carries In Its Aftermath A Level Of Confusion And Devastation That Is, For The Most Part, Beyond Description.

When I Am High I Couldn't Worry About Money Of I Tried. So I Don't. The Money Will Come From From Somewhere; I Am Entitled; God Will Provide. Credit Cards Are Disastrous, Personal Checks Worse. Unfortunately, For Manics Anyway, Mania Is A Natural Extension Of The Economy.

But Money Spent While Manic Doesn't Fit Into The Internal Revenue Service Concept Of Medical Expense Or Business Loss. So After Mania, When Most Depressed, You're Given Excellent Reason To Be Even More So.