Best 1209 quotes in «mad quotes» category

Rage only works if it is justified. That's the trick with rage. You gotta have a reason to be mad.

Radio is better than writing because they can't lie. Cause sometimes writers be straight lying, bro, and these headlines be making me mad.

Reading made Don Quixote a gentleman, but believing what he read made him mad.

Read like mad. But try to do it analytically - which can be hard, because the better and more compelling a novel is, the less conscious you will be of its devices. It's worth trying to figure those devices out, however: they might come in useful in your own work.

Reassurance is such a sad, mad thing. Deep inside, everyone knows the truth.

Red serpents, fiery forms, and yelling hags, Fit company for mad adventurers.

Repression is an evolutionary adaptation permitting us to function under the burden of our expanded consciousness. For what we are conscious of could drive us mad.

Repose, leisure, peace, belong among the elements of happiness. If we have not escaped from harried rush, from mad pursuit, from unrest, from the necessity of care, we are not happy. And what of contemplation? Its very premise is freedom from the fetters of workaday busyness. Moreover, it itself actualizes this freedom by virtue of being intuition.

Resisting madness is the maddest way of being mad.

Roman’s a little gay boy who lives in me. And every time I talk he sort of just appears and I tell him, ‘Roman, you know, stop it, you’ve gone mad, I tell you, mad.’ He’s an outlet to say what I need to say but sometimes don’t want to.

Rousseau was mad but influential; Hume was sane but had no followers.

San Francisco is a mad city - inhabited for the most part by perfectly insane people whose women are of a remarkable beauty.

Sanity is a handicap and liability if you're living in a mad world.

Sanity is not statistical - Being in a minority, even a minority of one, did not make you mad.

She [Alice] went on "And how do you know that you're mad?" "To begin with," said the Cat, "a dog's not mad. You grant that?" "I suppose so," said Alice. "Well, then," the Cat went on, "you see, a dog growls when it's angry, and wags it's tail when it's pleased. Now I growl when I'm pleased, and wag my tail when I'm angry. Therefore I'm mad.

See the ridiculous in everything.

Ser eyes met his, hers naked with pleading, his remote as mountain lakes under gray skies. She saw in them defeat of her wild dream, her mad desires.

Sexton: I think the whole world's gone mad. Death: Uh-uh. It's always like this. You probably just don't get out enough.

She gives him what he can only call a sweet smile. 'So you are determined to go on being bad. Mad, bad, and dangerous to know. I promise, no one will ask you to change.

Samuel laughed out loud. "You still haven't figured it out, have you, Mercy? He never was mad about the car. He was the first one at the scene of the accident. He thought you'd killed yourself. We all did. That was a pretty spectacular wreck.

Saying that a great genius is mad, while at the same time recognizing his artistic worth, is like saying that he had rheumatism or suffered from diabetes. Madness, in fact, is a medical term that can claim no more notice from the objective critic than he grants the charge of heresy raised by the theologian, or the charge of immorality raised by the police.

Sell your soul to yourself. You'll make more money.

She'd been impressed by his looks at first--those sharply planed cheekbones and those black, fathomless eyes--but his affable, sympathetic personality grated on her now. She didn't like boys who looked as if they never got mad about anything. In Isabelle's world, rage equaled passion equaled a good time.

She could and had faced an armed laser in the hands of a mad mutant mercenary with less fear than she faced such unswerving emotion.

She's half mad and three parts drunk.

She's stark raving mad!

She's not my type,' Carter says. 'So what is your type?' 'Tall, skinny, black hair, blue eyes, freckly nose. Blue tinsel wig and snowflakes optional.' 'Skinny?' I squeal. 'Definitely. Pretending to be shy, sensible and stand-offish when really you're mad about me.' 'You sure about that?' 'No, but I'm hoping.

She's an old lady and she's ill. You just hold your head high and be a gentleman. Whatever she says to you, it's your job not to let her make you mad.

So far rich people have been very quiet about the possibility of getting taxes raised on them, but that doesn't mean they won't get mad about it, it just means they don't know about it. Because it takes a while for bad news to reach a rich person. First their accountant has to tell the butler, who has to tell the servant, who wouldn't dare interrupt their game of croquet.

Simi, why did Acheron send you here? (Astrid) To protect you from Thanatos so that your sisters don’t get all freaky and destroy the world. Or something like that. I don’t know why all of you fear the end of the world. It’s not so bad, really. At least then akri’s mama be free. Then she wouldn’t be so cranky at the Simi all the time. (Simi) Ash’s mother is still alive? (Zarek) Oh, akri get mad whenever I tell that. Bad Simi. I not talk anymore. I need food. (Simi)

So it is with minds. Unless you keep them busy with some definite subject that will bridle and control them, they throw themselves in disorder hither and yon in the vague field of imagination... And there is no mad or idle fancy that they do not bring forth in the agitation.

Some damage is too severe, some harm endures. And what you have to do is accept it. And by accept it I mean, don’t be the paralyzed person in the bed who is waiting to walk again. Realize, it’s never gonna happen. And find some other way to get around –swing from a vine, get a Mad Max wheelchair. Anything but…wait.

So let me tell you this, when it comes to...trying to introduce other people to Jesus. Don't get mad at them: it's not because they're stupid. It's because they're blind. Yelling louder, arguing harder, pushing firmer won't make someone who is blind see. Pray for them, speak to them, care for them.

Solving the following riddle will reveal the awful secret behind the universe, assuming you do not go utterly mad in the attempt. If you already happen to know the awful secret behind the universe, feel free to skip ahead.

Some guys step on a rake in the dark, and get mad and go punch somebody. Others step on a rake in the dark and fall down laughing at themselves. I know which kind of guy I'd rather be. So do my friends.

Solitude is dangerous to reason, without being favourable to virtue. Remember that the solitary mortal is certainly luxurious, probably superstitious, and possibly mad.

Someone stole my wallet last week. The guy called me up and he was mad at me. He was like 'you gotta get your finances together. You got no cash, your credit cards are maxed out. You don't even have minutes on your calling card. I had to use my card to call you.'

Some people are ok with doing nothing all day after they retire, but then some people if they had nothing to do would go mad and start banging their heads against a wall. .

Some people are born with a vital and responsive energy. It not only enables them to keep abreast of the times; it qualifies them to furnish in their own personality a good bit of the motive power to the mad pace.

Some stuff I don't even put out. I'll just be home, happy, creating something for myself, and then ball it up and throw it in the trash. It's less about trying to prove something or get on somebody's list or make a fan happy or make a hater mad or convert a non-believer. That's not the case for me anymore.

Some things, it was better not to think about. It just made you mad and angry.

Sometimes I feel sure he is as mad as a hatter and then, just as he is at his maddest, I find there is a method in his madness.

Sometimes I feel like I'm making a connection with a stranger, but then it turns out I'm not. Like, I was in a mall, and I saw this lady hitting her kid. So I went up to her, and I was like, "Yeah, get him!" She got all mad at me. I was like, "I'm on your side here.

Sometimes I am a collector of data, and only a collector, and am likely to be gross and miserly, piling up notes, pleased with merely numerically adding to my stores. Other times I have joys, when unexpectedly coming upon an outrageous story that may not be altogether a lie, or upon a macabre little thing that may make some reviewer of my more or less good works mad. But always there is present a feeling of unexplained relations of events that I note, and it is this far-away, haunting, or often taunting, awareness, or suspicion, that keeps me piling on.

Sometimes I’d get mad because things didn’t work out so well, I’d spoil a flapjack, or slip in the snowfield while getting water, or one time my shovel went sailing down into the gorge, and I’d be so mad I’d want to bite the mountaintops and would come in the shack and kick the cupboard and hurt my toe. But let the mind beware, though the flesh be bugged, the circumstances of existence are pretty glorious.

Sometimes Lennon needed McCartney and sometimes Simon needed Garfunkel. You'd go mad doing everything on your own.

Sometimes people get mad at The Simpsons' subversive story telling, but there's another message in there, which is a celebration of making wild, funny stories.

Southern women like their men religious and a little mad.

Sometimes silence resolves a conversation confused by Mad Misconstruction.

Sometimes the person who is the most logical is the person whom we call insane.