Quotes About Madness

am i insane asked alice yes, but all the best people are replied her father

Alice: Why is a raven like a writing desk? Hatter: I haven't the faintest idea.

The madness with which suffering was dispersed in the world defied logic.

Sister St. Saviour did, of course. But the woman, childless, stubborn, coming to the close of her life, had a mad heart. Mad for mercy, perhaps, mad for her own authority in all things—a trait Annie had come to love and admire—but mad nonetheless. Riding home from the cemetery, Sister St. Saviour had said, "It would be a different Church if I were running it.

For her life, like human life everywhere on the planet, had speeded up and speeded up until peace was rarely possible. Always there was movement, noise, inevitable and constant distraction [. ...] a madness had seized the earth. The madness of speed. As if to speed things up meant to actually go somewhere. And where, after all, was there to go? The present is all there ever is, no matter how much you lean forward or back.

Follow your inner moonlight, don't hide the madness.

A naked lunch is natural to us We eat reality sandwiches. But allegories are so much lettuce. Don't hide the madness.

No rest without love, no sleep without dreams of love- be mad or chill obsessed with angels or machines, the final wish is love -cannot be bitter, cannot deny, cannot withhold if denied: the weight is too heavy

The universe is mad, slightly mad.

We're not our skin of grime, we're not our dread bleak dusty imageless locomotive, we're all beautiful golden sunflowers inside, we're blessed by our own seed & hairy naked accomplishment-bodies growing into mad black formal sunflowers in the sunset, spied on by our eyes under the shadow of the mad locomotive riverbank sunset Frisco hilly tincan evening sitdown vision.

I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness, starving, hysterical, naked... who passed through universities with radiant cool eyes hallucinating Arkansas and Blake-light tragedy among the scholars of war... who vanished into nowhere Zen New Jersey leaving a trail of ambiguous picture postcards of Atlantic City Hall... who wandered around and around at midnight in the railroad yard wondering where to go, and went, leaving no broken hearts...

saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness, starving hysterical naked, dragging themselves through the negro streets at dawn looking for an angry fix, angelheaded hipsters burning for the ancient heavenly connection to the starry dynamo in the machinery of night, who poverty and tatters and hollow-eyed and high sat up smoking in the supernatural darkness of cold-water flats floating across the tops of cities contemplating jazz

I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness, starving hysterical naked, dragging themselves through the negro streets at dawn looking for an angry fix, angelheaded hipsters burning for the ancient heavenly connection to the starry dynamo in the machinery of night, who poverty and tatters and hollow-eyed and high sat up smoking in the supernatural darkness of cold-water flats floating across the tops of cities contemplating jazz

I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness, starving hysterical naked... who wandered around and around at midnight in the railroad yard wondering where to go, and went, leaving no broken hearts...

I'm with you in Rockland where we are great writers on the same dreadful typewriter

Who scribbled all night rocking and rolling over lofty incantations which in the yellow morning were stanzas of gibberish.

Assuming I am mad (Ha!) god, how I must have suffered to go mad. And all the time I was calling to people to save me and no one put out his hand and held it. This is like suicide, only I am alive and looking out of this living death I can see the people weep and feel sorry. Alas, nobody even weeps. It's all a dream.

He visto las mejores mentes de mi generación destruidas por la locura

I'm with you in Rockland where you scream in a straightjacket that you're losing the game of the actual pingpong of the abyss

How strange to remember anything, even a button much less a universe. 'What creature gives birth to itself?' The universe is mad, slightly mad.

I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness

I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness, starving hysterical naked ...

Reality, n. The dream of a mad philosopher.

I thought of how much they all wanted to be free; how they went mad wanting their freedom; I began to wonder whether it was I that was mad because I was happy to be bound; whether I was alone in knowing that I could not live without the clamour of the voices within me.