At the lip of a cliff, I look out over Lake Superior, through the bare branches of birches and the snow-covered branches of aspens and pines. A hard wind blows snow up out of a cavern and over my face. I know this place, I know its seasons - I have hiked these mountains in the summer and walked these winding pathways in the explosion of color that is a northern fall. And now, the temperature drops well below zero and the deadly cold lake rages below, I feel the stirrings of faith that here, in this place, in my heart, spring will come again. But first the winter must be waited out. And that waiting has worth.

— Marya Hornbacher

At times, it may seem worse - harder, at least - to live through the despair of this loss without the temporary comfort of our addictive behavior. We cannot drown our sorrows. We must face the fact that we don’t know, really, where we are, how we got here, how long the pain will last, or how to move past it. That uncertainty may be the most painful part of not knowing a God: no one is there to reassure us that a God will take the pain and confusion away. We simply don’t know. And we have no way to numb ourselves or to forget the condition we’re in.

— Marya Hornbacher

Bear in mind you have a life to live. There is an incredible loss. There is a profound grief. And there is, in the end, after a long time and more work than you ever thought possible, a time when it gets easier.

— Marya Hornbacher

Because I'm not, in fact, depressed, Prozac makes me manic and numb - one of the reasons I slice my arm in the first place is that I'm coked to the gills on something utterly wrong for what I have.

— Marya Hornbacher

But new love only lasts so long, and then you crash back into the real people you are, and from as high as we were, it's a very long fall, and we hit the ground with a thud.

— Marya Hornbacher

Falling in love happens so suddenly that it seems, all at once, that you have always been in love.

— Marya Hornbacher

Forgive me for being chipper, but despair is desperately dull.

— Marya Hornbacher

Here's the hell of it: madness doesn't announce itself. There isn't time to prepare for its coming. It shows up without calling and sits in your kitchen ashing in your plant. You ask how long it plans to stay; it shrugs its shoulders, gets up, and starts digging through the fridge.

— Marya Hornbacher

I am mad. The thought calms me. I don't have to try to be sane anymore. It's over. I sleep

— Marya Hornbacher

I get absolutely shitfaced. I am shitfaced and hyper and ten years old. Furthermore, I am having the time of my life.

— Marya Hornbacher