The world is so full of simpletons and madmen, that one need not seek them in a madhouse.

We are all born mad. Some remain so.

I read somewhere that seventy per cent of all the mentally ill live in poverty. Actually, I'm more intrigued by the twenty-three per cent who are apparently doing quite well for themselves.

I may be a lunatic, but then, wasn't my lunacy caused by a monster that lurks at the bottom of every human mind? Those who call me a madman and spurn me may become lunatics tomorrow. They harbor the same monster.

The wily lunatic is lost if through the narrowest crack he allows a sane eye to peer into his locked universe and thus profane it.

There is less harm to be suffered in being mad among madmen than in being sane all by oneself.

There is a pleasure sure In being mad which none but madmen know.

Sanity is very rare: every man almost, and every woman, has a dash of madness.

What is madness To those who only observe, is often wisdom To those to whom it happens.

Better mad with the rest of the world than wise alone.