Steven Wright Quotes

I can be going through nothing, but within me, in my head, oh my God! It can be a circus.

Mixed feelings, like mixed drinks, are a confusion to the soul.

I had a variety of minds about me and all of them unsettled.

A lot of my songs are about being a teenager with a tornado in your head.

But I confess that "my mind to me a kingdom is" - not! Rather it is a fantastical republic, daily troubled by more revolutions than ever occurred in South America.

That's what it's like in my head all the time, constant snow, constant weather patterns of all sorts - blizzards, cyclones.

What Hells and Purgatories and Heavens I have inside of me! But who sees me do anything that disagrees with life--me, so calm and peaceful?

Today I felt pass over me A breath of wind from the wings of madness.

Her mind is an unquiet one, words and thoughts and impulses constantly crashing into each other.

The premonition of madness is complicated by the fear of lucidity in madness, the fear of the moments of return and reunion... One would welcome chaos if one were not afraid of lights in it.

And sometimes, he was less lucid. He'd run around his cell like a caged animal; he'd rock back and forth; he'd swing from topic to topic as if it was the only way to cross the jungle of his thoughts.

I am astonished, disappointed, pleased with myself. I am distressed, depressed, rapturous. I am all these things at once and cannot add up the sum.

The man is clear in his mind, but his soul is mad.

I am overrun, infested with a menagerie of desires.

A flood of emotions rushes into me. Pain and anger. Sadness and pity. But most surprising of all, hope.

The word rattled in my head like rocks in an oatmeal box.

I'm putting up a great front, then because I feel like I'm breaking apart inside.

Meanwhile in my head, I’m undergoing open-heart surgery.

God save me from myself.

He's hell bent for destruction, he's afraid and confused, and his brain has been mismanaged with great skill.

I am mad, I am going under, I must follow the advice of a friend, and pay no heed to myself.

I do not speak as I think, I do not think as I should, and so it all goes on in helpless darkness.

My soul is a hidden orchestra; I know not what instruments, what fiddlestrings and harps, drums and tamboura I sound and clash inside myself. All I hear is the symphony.

Hence, viper thoughts, that coil around my mind,Reality's dark dream!I turn from you, and listen to the wind,Which long has raved unnoticed.