If I can't really find a way to live with myself, I can't expect anyone else to live with me.

...before I can live with other folks I’ve got to live with myself.

I cannot live with someone who can't live without me.

Life with another person is always difficult.

The difficult thing isn't living with other people, it's understanding them.

I don't live my life for other people.

The difficulty of living alone is that any mess he makes he is forced to clean up himself.

No, the real difficulty of living alone is that no one cares if you are upset.

Before I can live with other folks I’ve got to live with myself. The one thing that doesn’t abide by majority rule is a person’s conscience.

What was the point in continuing to live with this burden of misery? Why carry on with this continuous struggle? I could feel that a deep longing for annihilation, for nonexistence, was now becoming much stronger than the instinctive desire to continue to live. “I cannot live with myself any longer.” This was the thought that kept repeating itself in my mind. Then suddenly I became aware of what a peculiar thought it was. “Am I one or two? If I cannot live with myself, there must be two of me: the ‘I’ and the ‘self’ that ‘I’ cannot live with.” “Maybe,” I thought, “only one of them is real.” Introduction

which is I don't like working with other fucking people. That might make me selfish. Fine, then I'm selfish.

Being human is difficult. Some people make it more difficult than others. I was one of those people.

It's hard to get along with people. As much as you try to like them and accept them as individuals, it becomes difficult because they keep getting out of line and wasting your time.

I feel the necessity of deepening the stream of my life: I must cultivate privacy. It is very dissipating to be with people too much.

Thus I am not able to exist either with you or without you; and I seem not to know my own wishes.