You can have manic-depression without having an ounce of creativity.

We have developed this unbelievable ability to deny. We have to. If we didn't, we'd go crazy.

For the first time, I lived alone... in a luxury apartment on Sunset Strip. For a few days I loved the idea, but I got lonely and restless.

When I'm 80 and sitting in a rocking chair listening to the Rolling Stones, there is absolutely no way I'm going to feel old or forget my younger days.

Sometimes it is the simplest, seemingly most inane, most practical stuff that matters the most to someone.

You can have manic-depression without having an ounce of creativity.

I tell people to monitor their self-pity. Self-pity is very unattractive.

Actors take risks all the time. We put ourselves on the line. It is creative to be able to interpret someone's words and breathe life into them.

The mania started with insomnia and not eating and being driven, driven to find an apartment, driven to see everybody, driven to do New York, driven to never shut up.

I never did quite fit the glamour mode. It is life with my husband and family that is my high now.

The panic attacks - I still have them. They started when I was around 8. They always have to do with my death.

When I don't know what the music is going to be for a scene, I imagine some sort of orchestration going on and damned if they don't usually come up with a similar kind of thing.

I have a picture of myself in my mind as I walk around every day, until I look in the mirror-and then I'm stunned.

I joke around a lot about the manic times because they're funny. We manics do outrageous things and it is part of our colorful nature.

I knew from a very young age that there was something very wrong with me.

I've come to believe that whoever I am didn't start on December 14, 1946, and isn't going to end on whatever that mysterious date is in the future.

I had been very close to Anne Bancroft when we worked together in The Miracle Worker.

I kind of like the position of being the fair-haired savior of my mother.

I can't even remember how many times I tried to kill myself.

The doctors must tell you that one of the risks of surgery is that you might die. This poor doctor was talking to an actress. It was very dramatic to me. To him, it was just a thing he had to say.

Reality is hard. It is no walk in the park, this thing called Life.

I can't tell you what I had for breakfast, but I can sing every single word of rock and roll.

I think my real depressions started when I was about 16 and doing The Patty Duke Show. I would go to bed at about 10 o'clock on a Friday night and not get up again until 6:30 Monday morning.

I believe that all the important people in my life prior to 1982 were victimized by my illness.

The Eleanor Roosevelt Award that I received for women's rights activities is one I treasure.

I'm going to be 58, and I'm a woman. In this business, that seems to be a bigger crime than being mentally ill.

I have been afraid all my life that I am going to die. All my life it has been stuffed in my imagination.

My recovery from manic depression has been an evolution, not a sudden miracle.

I still have highs and lows, just like any other person. What's missing is the lack of control over the super highs, which became destructive, and the super lows, which are immediately destructive.

No matter what your laundry list of requirements in choosing a mate, there has to be an element of good luck and good fortune and good timing.

I'm living out a childhood fantasy. Our house is in a historic district of a small town that I used to read about in storybooks.

It's toughest to forgive ourselves. So it's probably best to start with other people. It's almost like peeling an onion. Layer by layer, forgiving others, you really do get to the point where you can forgive yourself.

Human beings have speculated about the relationship between inspiration and insanity for centuries.

If I have any message for others, it is to go for help early and not to be a resistant patient.

I'm not sure I want all my neuroses cleared up.

I have two books that were published quite some time ago. I start to read about three sentences. I have to close it. I am so self-conscious. Who did I think I was?

As much as I loathe this aging thing, I'm beginning to recognize that I am now a healthier person in terms of self-worth and knowing who I am and where I fit in the world. That's been a good trade-off for the wrinkles.

At the age of 19, I removed myself from society for almost four months, setting off years of manic episodes, including outrageous overspending. I bought several Mercedes because I thought I could. I had no money, but I rented a jet.

Due to my sometimes erratic behavior, my children tried very hard to avoid me and not do anything to set me off.

I met my husband while I was making a movie.

I was a truly loving mom, but I didn't have the tools to do the job.

I was a very isolated teenager.

I worshipped my father.

I'm spoiled rotten, as my children would tell you.

I'm surviving a life-threatening illness. Many do not, such as those without celebrity and fortune who have to depend on the public healthcare system.

I've gotten to the age where I'm comfortable with just about everything - except getting old!

I've survived. I've beaten my own bad system, and on some days, on most days, that feels like a miracle.

If stars behave in an erratic fashion, it's called 'colorful,' as opposed to, 'Well, maybe there's a problem there.'

My life was ripped off!