Insanity (n.) comes two ways: by a sudden transition that stops the understanding — reflection unable to breathe, petrified — or by a secret passion that exhausts the will until ideas call themselves up unfreely.
Insanity (n.) thought to need no deeper cause than a trifle is like the mediocre actor's belief that playing a drunk is the easiest part — true only before a mediocre audience.
Insanity (n.) is the sad perpetuum mobile of monotonous sameness.
Insanity (n.) is, for the strong, only a phase — like the fever between half past eleven and midnight; by one o'clock one works more boldly than ever.
Insanity (n.) is what human cowardice fears to hear: it is particularly afraid of the utterances of the mad and the dying.