Yet, mad am I not – and very surely do I not dream.
Who are the lunatics? The ones who see horror in the heart of their fellow humans and search for peace at any price? Or the ones who pretend they don’t see what’s going on around them? The world belongs either to lunatics or hypocrites. There are no other races on this earth. You must choose which one to belong to.
What creature but a madman would not rather do good than ill, when it is plain that, good or ill, it must return upon himself?
Though this be madness, yet there is method in’t.
If the others heard me talking out loud they would think that I am crazy. But since I am not crazy, I do not care.
What can you do, thought Winston, against the lunatic who is more intelligent than yourself, who gives your arguments a fair hearing and then simply persists in his lunacy?
We want a few mad people now. See where the sane ones have landed us!
We are all born mad. Some remain so.
There is no folly of the beasts of the earth which is not infinitely outdone by the madness of men.
There is always some madness in love. But there is always, also, some method in madness.[Es ist immer etwas Wahnsinn in der Liebe. Es ist aber immer auch etwas Vernunft im Wahnsinn.]
There is a wisdom that is woe; but there is a woe that is madness.
There is a fissure in my vision and madness will always rush through.
