Imperfection is beauty, madness is genius and it’s better to be absolutely ridiculous than absolutely boring.
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.
The lack of carbohydrates can make you a little crazy.
Lovers and madmen have such seething brains, such shaping fantasies, that apprehend more than cool reason ever comprehends.
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.
When we remember that we are all mad, the mysteries disappear and life stands explained.
When a madman appears thoroughly sane, indeed, it is high time to put him in a strait-jacket.
What is the most innocent place in any country? Is it not the insane asylum? These people drift through life truly innocent, unable to see into themselves at all.
What can you do against the lunatic who is more intelligent than yourself, who gives your arguments a fair hearing and then simply persists in his lunacy?
