No great genius has ever existed without some touch of madness.
Madness need not be all breakdown. It may also be break-through. It is potential liberation and renewal as well as enslavement and existential death.
We're not in Wonderland anymore Alice.
Much Madness is divinest Sense -- to a discerning Eye -- much Sense -- the starkest Madness --
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Perhaps he was a bit different from other people, but what really sympathetic person is not a little mad?
I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness.
What madness is it, to be expecting evil before it comes.
I guess the definition of a lunatic is a man surrounded by them.
O, let me not be mad, not mad, sweet heaven! Keep me in temper. I would not be mad.
In a completely sane world, madness is the only freedom!
We want a few mad people now. See where the sane ones have landed us!
If the dead talk to you, you are a spiritualist; if God talks to you, you are a schizophrenic.
In the past, men created witches; now they create mental patients.
What madness is it, to be expected evil before it comes.
Sanity is madness put to good use.
The experience and behavior that gets labeled schizophrenic is a special strategy that a person invents in order to live in an unlivable situation.
And what is an authentic madman? It is a man who preferred to become mad, in the socially accepted sense of the word, rather than forfeit a certain superior idea of human honor. So society has strangled in its asylums all those it wanted to get rid of or protect itself from, because they refused to become its accomplices in certain great nastinesses. For a madman is also a man whom society did not want to hear and whom it wanted to prevent from uttering certain intolerable truths.
I have cultivated my hysteria with delight and terror.
Now I suffer continually from vertigo, and today, 23rd of January, 1862, I have received a singular warning, I have felt the wind of the wing of madness pass over me.
The world has always gone through periods of madness so as to advance a bit on the road to reason.
One who shows signs of mental aberration is, inevitably, perhaps, but cruelly, shut off from familiar, thoughtless intercourse, partly excommunicated; his isolation is unwittingly proclaimed to him on every countenance by curiosity, indifference, aversion, or pity, and in so far as he is human enough to need free and equal communication and feel the lack of it, he suffers pain and loss of a kind and degree which others can only faintly imagine, and for the most part ignore.
There is no great genius without some touch of madness
Men are mad most of their lives; few live sane, fewer die so. The acts of people are baffling unless we realize that their wits are disordered. Man is driven to justice by his lunacy.
In this century the writer has carried on a conversation with madness.
We might almost say of the twentieth-century writer that he aspires to madness. Some have made it, of course, and they hold special places in our regard. To a writer, madness is a final distillation of self, a final editing down. It's the drowning out of false voices.
Madness is the absolute break with the work of art;
it forms the constitutive moment of abolition, which dissolves in time the truth of the work of art.
But then they danced down the street like dingledodies, and shambled after as I've been doing all my life after people who interest me, because the only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars and in the middle you see the blue centerlight pop and everybody goes Awww!.
The lightning flashes through my skull;
mine eyeballs ache and ache; my whole beaten brain seems as beheaded, and rolling on some stunning ground.
Madness is tonic and invigorating. It makes the sane more sane. The only ones who are unable to profit by it are the insane.
Imperfections are beauty, madness is genius and silly is better than boring
The usefulness of madmen is famous: they demonstrate society's logic flagrantly carried out down to its last scrimshaw scrap.
It's a question to ask ourselves if we're not mad.
But who are the madmen, in God's name? Those who wonder about it, or the others? If we ever began to speak out loud, what would they do with us, tell me?
Eccentricity is not, as dull people would have us believe, a form of madness.
It is often a kind of innocent pride, and the man of genius and the aristocrat are frequently regarded as eccentrics because genius and aristocrat are entirely unafraid of and uninfluenced by the opinions and vagaries of the crowd.
To think the world therefore a general Bedlam, or place of madmen, and oneself a physician, is the most necessary point of present wisdom: an important imagination, and the way to happiness.
Just as modern motorways have no room for ox-carts or wandering pedestrians, so modern society has little place for lives and ways that are too eccentric.
It seems to me madness to wake up in the morning and do something other than paint, considering that one may not wake up the following morning.
When love is not madness, it is not love.
Optimism is the madness of insisting that all is well when we are miserable.
Men are so necessarily mad, that not to be mad would amount to another form of madness.
So reports of my madness, as they say, were greatly exaggerated.
Not that I give a bugger either way.