Everyone has to go mad, it's essential fir everyone to go mad - as soon as possible! It's essential - I know.
I'm not so sure he's mad, Father. Just a little devious in his sanity.
He never denied it. He never did anything. He never acted like either a nigger or a white man. That was it. That was what made the folks so mad.
I may be mad, he thought, but I prefer the shit of this world to whatever sweet ambrosias the next may offer.
Sweet, crazy conversations full of half sentences, daydreams and misunderstandings more thrilling than understanding could ever be.
All extremes of feeling are allied with madness.
Perhaps I am too tame, too domestic a magician. But how does one work up a little madness? I meet with mad people every day in the street, but I never thought before to wonder how they got mad. Perhaps I should go wandering on lonely moors and barren shores. That is always a popular place for lunatics - in novels and plays at any rate. Perhaps wild England will make me mad.
So that's who Finnick loves, I think. Not his string of fancy lovers in the Capitol. But a poor, mad girl back home.
I know he was desperate. That makes people do all kinds of crazy things.
People who try hard to do the right thing always seem mad.
Would you please tell me what you are thinking? Before I go mad?
I wanted to laugh. Or maybe get mad. Or maybe shrug at how strange everyone was, especially me.
It's like when you're excited about a girl and you see a couple holding hands, and you feel so happy for them. And other times you see the same couple, and they make you so mad. And all you want is to feel happy for them because you know that if you do, then it means you're happy, too.
Even the company of the mad was better than the company of the dead.
Flirting with madness was one thing; when madness started flirting back, it was time to call the whole thing off.
She sometimes thought she was going crazy. Her first thought when she woke up was always how to get him out of her thoughts. And she would keep watch, hoping to see him next door, while plotting ways to never have to see him again.
Call it crazy, or just chicken salad.
I suppose I really seemed mad, then; but it was only through the awfulness of having said nothing but the truth, and being thought to be deluded.
If we're mad, we're mad in large numbers, at least larger than yours.
I can't help but smile as I swipe a lone tear trailing down my cheek. How can I not be crazy in love with this guy? Time away from him didn't change anything. I can't deny him another chance. That would be denying myself.
Madame Guillotine gets mad at me. Not because I told them to shove it, but because I didn't say it in French. What is wrong with this school?
Then it was that there came into my head the first of the mad notions that contributed so much to saving our lives.
I'd accepted a while ago that there were too many reasons for me to even think about him romantically anymore. Every once in a while, I slipped a little and kind of wished he would too. It'd have been nice to know that he still wanted me, that I still drove him crazy. Studying him now, I realized he might not ever slip because I didn't drive him crazy anymore. It was a depressing thought.
People who are crazy rarely question whether they're crazy.
You did what you did out of love. I can't be mad at you over that. It was stupid, but that's how love is. Do you have any idea what I'd do for you? To keep you safe?
Number eight, the silver one, belongs to Artemis. She vowed to be a maiden forever. So of course, no kids. The cabin is, you know, honorary. If she didn't have one, she'd be mad.
Back up shall we? When my brother, the crazy chicken warrior, turned into a falcon and went up the pyramid's chimney with his new friend, the fruit bat, he left me playing nurse to two very wounded people-which I didn't appreciate, and which I wasn't particularly good at.
Be crazy! But learn how to be crazy without being the center of attention. Be brave enough to live different.
Collective madness is called sanity ..