It is futile to wish for a long life, and then to give so little care to living well.
The depression belongs to all of us. I think of the family down the road whose mother was having a baby and they went around the neighborhood saying, "We're pregnant. " I want to go around the neighborhood saying, "We're depressed. " If my mum can't get out of bed in the morning, all of us feel the same. Her silence has become ours, and it's eating us alive.