We trouble our life by thoughts about death, and our death by thoughts about life.

Surrounded by madness, surrounded by hunger, surrounded by everything but death, I knew death was our only way out.

Over the lives borne from under the shadow of death there seems to fall the shadow of madness.

We're all mad, the whole damned race. We're wrapped in illusions, delusions, confusions about the penetrability of partitions, we're all mad and in solitary confinement.

Doubt … is an illness that comes from knowledge and leads to madness.

All extremes of feeling are allied with madness.

The love of knowledge is a kind of madness.

humanity could share a common insanity and be immersed in a common illusion while living in a common chaos.

For to be in one's right mind causes grief: but madness is an ill; yet it is better to perish, nothing knowing of one's ills.

To be sane in a world of madman is in itself madness.

I was already thinking there was no way out of the vicious circle of madness — after all, no one can think with anything but his brain, no one can be outside himself to check whether the processes taking place in his body are normal.

The center of every man's existence is a dream. Death, disease, insanity, are merely material accidents, like a toothache or a twisted ankle. That these brutal forces always besiege and often capture the citadel does not prove that they are the citadel.

Madness is the acme of intelligence.

When life itself seems lunatic, who knows where madness lies? Perhaps to be too practical may be madness. To surrender dreams, this may be madness ...Maddest of all is to see life as it is and not as it should be.