Madness Quotes
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Genocide is not just a murderous madness; it is, more deeply, a politics that promises a utopia beyond politics - one people, one land, one truth, the end of difference. Since genocide is a form of political utopia, it remains an enduring temptation in any multiethnic and multicultural society in crisis.
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If you want to kill somebody, conquer his heart, Then leave slowly and leave them between death and madness.
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After all perhaps the greatness of art lies in the perpetual tension between beauty and pain, the love of men and the madness of creation, unbearable solitude and the exhausting crowd, rejection and consent.
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There is also a third kind of madness, which is possession by the Muses, enters into a delicate and virgin soul, and there inspiring frenzy, awakens lyric... But he, who, not being inspired and having no touch of madness in his soul, comes to the door and thinks he will get into the temple by the help of art - he, I say, and his poetry are not admitted; the sane man is nowhere at all when he enters into rivalry with the madman.
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Madness comes from God, whereas sober sense is merely human.
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Turn away. From the darkness, the madness, the pain. Open your eyes and look at the light.
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I wanted to see something in full daylight; I was sated with the pleasure and comfort of the half light; I had the same desire for the daylight as for water and air. And if seeing was fire, I required the plenitude of fire, and if seeing would infect me with madness, I madly wanted that madness.
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Composing is not a profession. It is a maniaa harmless madness.
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Hatred is the madness of the heart.
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Anger is simply momentary madness, and sometimes there is strength in silence. After all, he is only throwing words, not stones.
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When love is not madness it is not love.
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Luck, mere luck may make even madness wisdom.
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Drunkenness is nothing but voluntary madness.
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You will wonder how it was possible for me to endure the same kind of “tomorrow the world” talk that had sent me running away from Hainburg. The answer is simply that I had run out of places to run away to. Surrounded by a population that had been completely sold on monstrous ideas, I simply retreated down, down, down, trying to live in imitation of the German writer Erich Kästner, whom I had always admired and who responded to the Nazi years with what was called “internal emigration.” The soul withdrew to a rational silence. The body remained there in the madness.
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What delusion has come over me? What sweet madness has seized me?
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The sound of madness is life. It's waking up in the morning to your alarm clock, your kid crying for you, hearing the sound of the city, it's everything. Madness isn't necessarily a negative thing, it can be a positive thing. You know, hearing them cry for you, if you have children, is a great thing, it's your child.
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There is no element of genius without some form of madness.
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One couldn't even measure roughness. So, by luck, and by reward for persistence, I did found the theory of roughness, which certainly I didn't expect and expecting to found one would have been pure madness.
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Speak out. You've got to speak out against the madness
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I'm afraid I take ... this rather clinical view of love: it's saving you from madness. I'm not so enthusiastic as other poets have been.
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Madness is terrific I can assure you, and not to be sniffed at; and in its lava I still find most of the things I write about. It shoots out of one everything shaped, final, not in mere driblets, as sanity does.
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There is a madness in loving you, a lack of reason that makes it feel so flawless.
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The madness is running wild!
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How strange or odd some'er I bear myself, As I perchance hereafter shall think meet To put an antic disposition on.
