So man’s insanity is heaven’s sense; and wandering from all mortal reason, man comes at last to that celestial thought, which, to reason, is absurd and frantic; and weal or woe, feels then uncompromised, indifferent as his God.
I enjoy talking to you. Your mind appeals to me. It resembles my own mind except that you happen to be insane.
The distinction between sanity and insanity is narrower than the razor’s edge, sharper than a hound’s tooth, more agile than a mule deer. It is more elusive than the merest phantom. Perhaps it does not even exist; perhaps it is a phantom.
Some lose all mind and become soul: insane. Some lose all soul and become mind: intellectual. Some lose both and become: accepted.
Perhaps if you know you are insane then you are not insane. Or you are becoming sane, finally. Waking up.
Knowing was the worst part. Awareness of insanity does not make one any less insane. Awareness of drowning does not make one any less of a drowning person—it only adds the burden of panic.