No sane man can be happy, for to him life is real, and he sees what a fearful thing it is. Only the mad can be happy, and not many of those.
Sanity is simply the ability of the mind to adjust to reality. If we can’t adjust, we either hide from reality, or we put our selves above life, where we’re super-beings who don’t have to follow the rules.
Sanity is a valuable possession; I hoard it the way people once hoarded money. I save it, so I will have enough, when the time comes.
Men have called me mad; but the question is not yet settled whether madness is or is not the loftiest intelligence whether much that is glorious whether all that is profound does not spring from disease of thought from moods of mind exalted at the expense of the general intellect.