A Quote by Joan Didion

That no one dies of migraine seems, to someone deep into an attack, an ambiguous blessing. — © Joan Didion
That no one dies of migraine seems, to someone deep into an attack, an ambiguous blessing.
This is a soul under perpetual migraine attack.
I've come to understand that migraine is a part of the personality. I have migraine troughs. These often follow high productivity. I have a hypo-manic phase, then I'll crash.
Whenever someone dies, a part of the universe dies too. Everything a person felt, experience and saw dies with them, like tears in the rain.
Wait for the placement. Wait for your placement. I will cause you to pull up that place in you that needs to have this piece fitted. If you will reach down deep and pull up that place that only I can fill, I will fill it. There's a blessing that you have not released, and I am saying, 'Pull that deep blessing up. It is down deep within you. When that blessing forms in your mouth and comes forth, blessings that you've been waiting for will pour upon you.'
Love never dies a natural death. It dies because we don't know how to replenish its source. It dies of blindness and errors and betrayals. It dies of illness and wounds; it dies of weariness, of witherings, of tarnishings.
When reflecting upon it today, that the Pearl Harbor attack should have succeeded in achieving surprise seems a blessing from Heaven. It was clear that a great American fleet had been concentrated in Pearl Harbor, and we supposed that the state of alert would be very high.
It would seem that it was not in the interest of 'someone' for us to make progress. It was in 'someone's' interest that we be always at war, that we tear each other to pieces. Yes, I'm inclined to absolve the Pakistanis. How should they have behaved? Someone encouraged them to attack us, someone gave them weapons to attack us. And they attacked us.
Right there is the usefulness of migraine, there in that imposed yoga, the concentration on the pain. For when the pain recedes, ten or twelve hours later, everything goes with it, all the hidden resentments, all the vain anxieties. The migraine has acted as a circuit breaker, and the fuses have emerged intact. There is a pleasant convalescent euphoria.
Behind the corpse in the reservoir, behind the ghost on the links, Behind the lady who dances and the man who madly drinks, Under the look of fatigue, the attack of migraine and the sigh There is always another story, there is more than meets the eye.
May we now all rise and sing the eternal school hymn: "Attack. Attack. Attack Attack Attack!"
Cause if you shoot a bullet someone dies. If you drop a bomb many die. You hit a woman, love dies. But if you say the F-word... nothing actually happens.
80 percent of any gang is not there to attack someone. They're there so no one will attack them.
Every source of blessing is a point of attack.
If you want to attack someone you attack their family. That is easy. You don't have to say directly.
Having someone who understands is a great blessing for ourselves. Being someone who understands is a great blessing to others.
As the gout seems privileged to attack the bodies of the wealthy, so ennui seems to exert a similar prerogative over their minds.
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