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“I have never seen battles quite as terrifyingly beautiful as the ones I fight when my mind splinters and races, to swallow me into my own madness, again.”
― Nicole Lyons, Hush

“It's a madness so discreet that it can walk the streets and be applauded in some circles, but it is madness nonetheless.”
― Mindy McGinnis, A Madness So Discreet

“When humans are not able to fathom the behaviour, actions, and motivations of others, they dismiss them as insane.”
― Abhaidev, The Gods Are Not Dead

“Are you insane?��
“When humans are not able to fathom the behaviour, actions, and motivations of others, they dismiss them as insane.”
― Abhaidev, The Gods Are Not Dead

“I came to know, in those afternoons, that madness can sometimes lead to discovery, that the mind, fractured and short-wired, is not entirely wrong.”
― Ocean Vuong, On Earth We're Briefly Gorgeous

“We are all mad here, don’t you know? And it runs in my family, it’s a part of my blood and he’s here, Time has finally found me and I _ �� His voice shredded. His eyes burned. ‘I haven’t the slightest idea, your Queenness. I find that I simply cannot recall why a raven is like a writing desk.”
― Marissa Meyer, Heartless

“What I've dared, I've willed; and what I've willed, I'll do! They think me mad—Starbuck does; but I'm demoniac, I am madness maddened! That wild madness that's only calm to comprehend itself! The prophecy was that I should be dismembered; and—Aye!”
― Herman Melville, Moby Dick

“Prone in the prison of this question, Hell or salvation, fired incessantly from the neuronal network in the pallium cowering in the base of the skull, lying motionless or walking out of the question.”
― Rainald Goetz

“Every man has an ordinary madness in him. Every mad man has an extra-ordinary madness in him.”
― Nkwachukwu Ogbuagu

“He hardly ate anything, and only stayed on his feet thanks to his lunacy. But that was a strong stick to lean on. He was not dying anytime soon.”
― Andrus Kivirähk, Mees, kes teadis ussisõnu

“I am scared of snapping. That something, some random day, it will simply make ‘click�� in my mind and all of the sudden I will absolutely lose my mind. In other words having gazed into the abyss for too long. Go completely and totally insane! How does one decent into madness? What makes one click so all of the sudden life is upside down and people don’t know themselves anymore?”
― Ryan Gelpke, 2018: Our Summer of Creeping Boredom and Beautiful Shimmering

“Ako nešto znam... Znam koliko ludilo daleko može da ode.”
― Tamara Kučan, Bivirgata

“Čovek ni ne sluti kakvo ludilo postoji, sve dok se to ludilo ne otrgne kontroli.”
― Tamara Kučan, Bivirgata

“We all are mad. We’re either mad at or mad about someone, the former drive us mad while we are mad keen to be with the latter.”
― Vincent Okay Nwachukwu, Weighty 'n' Worthy African Proverbs - Volume 1

“I have a habit, before leaving my flat in Prague, of checking three times to make sure I’ve shut off the gas stove, that I’ve turned off the lights in the bathroom and the water closet, and that I’ve locked the door, and then I go back once more to check on everything a fourth time, and so now, though I knew that nothing but my swan could possibly be lying there under the snow, I still brushed the snow away with trembling hands and saw the curve of her wing, and I went on brushing the snow away and yes, there was her neck, then I elbowed my way back like a sloth, and now nothing ached anymore but my heart, and so I crawled back from the riverbank to the swan again, and then again, trying to brush away more and more snow from that beautiful snowbound creature who, perhaps for my sake alone, had arranged herself in my sight so that I cried out into the dark morning and realized, bitterly, that the king of Czech comedians could go to claim his advance for this story, not to the Writers�� Publishing House, but to the very center, not of death, but of hell itself, where I will suffer pangs of guilt and remorse and shame that will pursue me into eternity, into the very heart of incalculable consequences.”
― Bohumil Hrabal, All My Cats

“The sound of her mother’s voice will break the glasshouse she has built around herself, a space devoid (of melodrama, of madness) ~ she’d rather go about doing her yogic routines.”
― Sindhu Rajasekaran, So I Let It Be

“Mad? If it’s madness that drives me to love you, then I’m mad and unsound, because I’ll never stop loving you.”
― Marilyn Velez

“The Duke: This La Mancha—what is it like?

The Governor: An empty place. Great wide plains.

Prisoner: A desert.

The Governor: A wasteland.

The Duke: Which apparently grows lunatics.

Cervantes: I would say, rather...men of illusion.

The Duke: Much the same. Why are you poets so fascinated with madmen?

Cervantes: I suppose...we have much in common.

The Duke: You both turn your backs on life.

Cervantes: We both select from life what pleases us.”
― Dale Wasserman, Man of La Mancha: A Musical Play

“If the brightest of minds are the most susceptible to madness and gloom, then let it be known that, for one, I am glad that Quincy Swansong has his off days just like the rest of us, living or dead.”
― Nick Vossen, The Swansong Conspiracy

“Porphyria's lover was mad, of course, but what lover is completely sane?”
― Michael Dibdin, A Rich Full Death

“All creation is an act of madness, a subtle insanity unmasking ourselves in order to break mirrors, telepathic accidents in dissent of the known.”
― K.M. Douglas

“I knew at that moment that I had learned one of my biggest life lessons, that good people sometimes snap. And a broken person can be fixed.”
― Susie Newman, Eating Yellow Paint

“we love and hate with equal madness”
― Scott C. Holstad, Hang Gliding on X

“He raved silently. He hallucinated. He regained his sanity and lost it and regained it as the years passed, as the decades passed, as the very definition of madness became irrelevant”
― Katherine Applegate, Destination Unknown

“The prince jumped up from the chair in new fright. When Rogozhin quieted down (and he did suddenly quiet down), the prince quietly bent over him, sat down beside him, and with a pounding heart, breathing heavily, began to examine him. Rogozhin did not turn his head to him and seemed to forget about him. The prince watched and waited; time passed, it began to grow light. Now and then Rogozhin sometimes suddenly began to mutter, loudly, abruptly, and incoherently; began to exclaim and laugh; then the prince would reach out his trembling hand to him and quietly touch his head, his hair, stroke it and stroke his cheeks there was nothing more he could do! He was beginning to tremble again himself, and again he suddenly lost the use of his legs. Some completely new feeling wrung his heart with infinite anguish. Meanwhile it had grown quite
light; he finally lay down on the pillows, as if quite strengthless now and in despair, and pressed his face to the pale and motionless face of Rogozhin; tears flowed from his eyes onto Rogozhin's cheeks, but perhaps by then he no longer felt his own tears and knew nothing about them ��

In any case, when, after many hours, the door opened and people came in, they found the murderer totally unconscious and delirious. The prince was sitting motionless on the bed beside him, and each time the sick man had a burst of shouting or raving, he quietly hastened to pass his trembling hand over his hair and cheeks, as if caressing and soothing him. But he no longer understood anything of what they asked him about, and did not recognise the people who came in and surrounded him. And if Schneider himself had come now from Switzerland to have a look at his former pupil and patient, he, too, recalling the state the prince had sometimes been in during the first year of his treatment in Switzerland, would have waved his hand now and said, as he did then: "An idiot!”
― Fyodor Dostoevsky, The Idiot

“I saw her and realised, why so many of the madmen in love turn into poets.”
― Jayesh Bhaware, Silk and Petals

“Every belief, every word, every phrase, every observation, every proposition, every citation, every punctuation mark is subjected to ruthless doubt and viscious interrogation. The conventions of grammar oblige me to end most of these sentences with periods, but there are ghostly, invisible lines curling and hovering over most of these tiny dots. What I mean is that most of the periods in this book are interrogation marks in disguise. Most of these declarations are really restless questions underneath.”
― La Marr Jurelle Bruce

“I rolled around and hit my face to wake myself up, but the pain proved that everything was real - because pain is another word for reality. The surfaces were hard, indeed. My eyes were wide open and lucid, but fear had deformed everything, it had driven me into the hallucination and delirium. I stood up, shook the industrial refuse from my clothes, and went back, my heart beating more strongly than it should have, to the door gaping open in the great building's wall. I knew full well that on the outside, the building was perfectly rectangular, that there was no way for the door to open into a room, and yet it led into a virtual depth, as inexplicable as the depth of a photograph, or the depths of perspective that create a third, and false, dimension in paintings on a wall. If you could go inside a trompe l'oeil mural, you wouldn't descend into its fraudulent depths, you would only get smaller as you moved along unseen lines of perspective. You wouldn't move through constantly changing spaces, with porphyry arches and columns and unintelligible Biblical images opening and closing behind you; rather, they would change their shapes constantly, rectangles would become parallelograms and trapezoids, the arcs of circles would change into hyperbolas, and circle into ellipses, becoming thinner and thinner as they tried to look deeper and farther away. I often thought that the world, along its three dimensions, is an equally deceiving trompe l'oeil for the infinitely more complex eye of our mind, with its two cerebral hemispheres taking in the world at slightly different angles, such that, by combining rational analysis and mystical sensibility, speech and song, happiness and depression, the abject and the sublime, it will make the amazing rosebud of the fourth dimension open before us, with its pearly petals, with its full depth, with its cubic surface, with its hypercubic volume. As though an embryo didn't grow in its mother's womb but arrived, from far away, and only the illusion of perspective made it seem to grow, like a wayfarer approaching along an empty road. A wayfarer who, after he passes through the iliac portal, continues his illusory rise, first an infant, then a child, then an adolescent, and in the end, when he is face-to-face with you and looks you in the eyes, he smiles at you like a friend from the other side of the mirror, having found you again, at last.”
― Mircea Cărtărescu, Solenoid

“Wendy: Talking to yourself, sunshine? First sign of madness that is.”
― Andy Winter, Peter Pan

“We all need a touch of madness to heal our sadness.”
― Bhuwan Thapaliya, Slipping into another world