I must really be crazy, now — because craziness is where everybody agrees about something, — except you!

A question that sometimes drives me hazy: am I or are the others crazy?

I am crazy, I know, Thérèse. But who is not?

Crazy people don't know they're crazy. I know I'm crazy, therefore I'm not crazy, isn't that crazy?

Because that’s really something I can’t stand — when people refer to themselves as crazy. The truly crazy are labeled so on the grounds that they see nothing wrong with their behavior. They forge ahead, lighting fires in public buildings and defecating in frying pans without the slightest notion that they are out of step with the rest of society. That, to me, is crazy.

Yeah, well, I'm crazy, but I'm not stupid, hopefully. And I think we're all a bit crazy if we do anything that's deviant. I've studied a great deal on deviance and aberrant behavior. Most of the interesting people I've ever met have been deviant in one form or another.

If one day I could get out of here, I would allow myself to be crazy. Everyone is indeed crazy, but the craziest are the ones who don't know they're crazy; they just keep repeating what others tell them to.

Everybody's serious but me.

"Am I weird?"

"Yeah. But so what? Everybody's weird."

What sane person could live in this world and not be crazy?

The thing about people who are truly and malignantly crazy: their real genius is for making the people around them think they <i>themselves</i> are crazy. In military science this is called Psy-Ops, for your info.

You always feel like you are the only one in the world, like everyone else is crazy for each other, but it's not true. Generally, people don't like each other very much. And that goes for friends, too.

I think perhaps all of us go a little crazy at times.

But I'm Crazy. I swear to God I am.