Madness (n.) and its innocence disturb us more than vice.
Madness (n.) is losing the world and oneself for a knowledge that has neither beginning nor end.
Madness (n.) arrives when Dali stops talking about THE rhinoceros horn and starts comparing goosebumps to a field of tiny rhinoceros horns.
Madness (n.) needs two: no one goes mad alone — the Hatter and the Hare lost their minds together the day they murdered time.
Madness (n.) forms with stupidity and malevolence a terrible Trinity that can no more be reduced to error than to any form of the same.
Madness (n.) is a face conforming to the nth choice — though not the last, since there are mad faces that do not conform to what madness should look like.
Madness (n.) raises the image of thought's first legal question: does it belong to thought by right, or is it a mere accident of the brain?
Madness (n.) arises where the individual contemplates itself in the free ground — stupidity in stupidity, cruelty in cruelty — until it can no longer stand itself.
Madness (n.) may one day no longer be clearly known: what designates the Exterior for us today stands a chance of one day designating us.
Madness (n.) may be the process, with the sickness its caricature — or the sickness may be our only madness and the process our only cure; we no longer know.
Madness (n.) is locked up by capitalism instead of being hailed as its own heroism — as if it saw in the schizophrenic the image of its own death coming from within.
Madness (n.) is mad only because it testifies all alone for deterritorialization: supported by science, art, labor and desire, it would no longer exist as madness.
Madness (n.) splits two ways: some seem completely mad but aren't, like Schreber, who managed his money wisely; others seem not mad at all but are, as their sudden quarrels, arsons, and murders prove.