Best 4396 quotes in «crazy quotes» category

There's a good kind of crazy, Kaylee," he insisted softly, reaching out to wrap his warm hand around mine. "It's the kind that makes you think about things that make your head hurt, because not thinking about them is the coward's way out. The kind that makes you touch people who bruise your soul, just because they need to be touched. This is the kind of crazy that lets you stare out into the darkness and rage at eternity, while it stares back at you, ready to swallow you whole." Tod leaned closer, staring into my eyes so intently I was sure he could see everything I was thinking, but too afraid to say. "I've seen you fight, Kaylee. I've seen you step into that darkness for someone else, then claw your way out, bruised, but still standing. You're that kind of crazy, and I live in that darkness. Together, we'd take crazy to a whole new level.

There's a thin line between love and hate. Maybe in his mind he's doing the right thing.

There's no such thing as crazy. There's no such thing as normal, either.

There was something really crazy about the way you said my name.

There were pecans, there were cashews and then there was just plain nuts.

These are the attributes of Bullshit people; they will...blur your imagination, take your endowments for a piece of debris, make you ridiculous, and most importantly, you got to send them to the recycle bin.

The shame-based person is nearly always enmeshed in some way with one or more people. While we are in a dysfunctional, shame-based relationship, we may feel like we are losing our mind, going crazy. When we try to test reality, we are unable to trust our senses, our feelings and our reactions.

The truth is crazier than lies because lies are required to stick to possibilities—the truth isn’t.

The town isn't big enough for two homicidal maniacs.

The word 'heresy' not only means no longer being wrong; it practically means being clear-headed and courageous. The word 'orthodoxy' not only no longer means being right; it practically means being wrong. All this can mean one thing, and one thing only. It means that people care less for whether they are philosophically right. For obviously a man ought to confess himself crazy before he confesses himself heretical.

The United States is an easy country to love because you can take it on faith that, at some point in every waking hour of the day, there is among your fellow citizens a vast exaltation of opinions that test the outer boundaries of the Crazoid.

The World is enough brutal don't make it mad and crazy more, so far I think that the adrenaline is on it's own full capacity.

This is some crazy shit straight out of a Romero film.

They roared into the Lincoln Tunnel. A wild, inexplicable excitement mounted in Therese as she stared through the windshield. She wished the tunnel might cave in and kill them both, that their bodies might be dragged out together. She felt Carol glancing at her from time to time.

They tried to define her. Some called her perpetually enigmatic. Some said she was fucking crazy. I didn't matter to her what they called her. She knew she was Free.

Thinking without acting makes you a coward. Acting without thinking makes you insane. You need both the thoughts and actions; they never walk alone!

They say the crazies come out at night. I say the crazies come out during election year: Elections have the power to turn once seemingly normal people into certified loonies.

They will call you crazy once you stop living someone else’s dream and start living your own.

This is what we do. We do crazy shit because we're broken. That's who we are. That's what we do.

THIS IS WHY He will never be given to wonder much if he was the mouth for some cruel force that said it. But if he were (this will comfort her) less than one moment out of millions had he meant it. So many years and so many turns they had swerved around the subject. And he will swear for many more the kitchen and everything in it vanished -- the oak table, their guests, the refrigerator door he had been surely propped against-- all changed to rusted ironwork and ash except in the center in her linen caftan: she was not touched. He remembers the silence before he spoke and her nodding a little, as if in the meat of this gray waste here was the signal for him to speak what they had long agreed, what somewhere they had prepared together. And this one moment in the desert of ash stretches into forever. They had been having a dinner party. She had been lonely. A friend asked her almost joking if she had ever felt really crazy, and when she started to unwind her answer in long, lovely sentences like scarves within her he saw this was the way they could no longer talk together. And that is when he said it, in front of the guests, because he couldn't bear to hear her. And this is why the guests have left and she screams as he comes near her.

This supreme instance of Troy's goodness fell upon Gabriel's ears like the thirteenth stroke of a crazy clock.

This was exhausting. If she was going to make this kind of emotional investment in someone, he should at least be a proper boyfriend. But for a casual fling? She could drive herself crazy.

This was sharing office space with wacko and bordering on ludicrous.

To evade insanity and depression, we unconsciously limit the number of people toward whom we are sincerely sympathetic.

To all the boys, for when you become men: you'll leave women all throughout your life because they're holding you back, and even after she's gone she'll still weigh you down. To all the women: stay away from us men. We don't know anything about you, despite what we try to convince you of.

To be lazy is stupid, to be a muscle machine is a crazy thing... and how far we go or father we all the time can find disadvantages and it's own consequences.

Too often the survivor is seen by [himself or] herself and others as "nuts," "crazy," or "weird." Unless her responses are understood within the context of trauma. A traumatic stress reaction consists of *natural* emotions and behaviors in response to a catastrophe, its immediate aftermath, or memories of it. These reactions can occur anytime after the trauma, even decades later. The coping strategies that victims use can be understood only within the context of the abuse of a child. The importance of context was made very clear many years ago when I was visiting the home of a Holocaust survivor. The woman's home was within the city limits of a large metropolitan area. Every time a police or ambulance siren sounded, she became terrified and ran and hid in a closet or under the bed. To put yourself in a closet at the sound of a far-off siren is strange behavior indeed—outside of the context of possibly being sent to a death camp. Within that context, it makes perfect sense. Unless we as therapists have a good grasp of the context of trauma, we run the risk of misunderstanding the symptoms our clients present and, hence, responding inappropriately or in damaging ways.

Touch my song with your lips, make it immortal, be my beloved, make my love immortal. No restriction of age, not the bond of lives, when someone love should see only the soul, by carving new trend, make the trend immortal. Loneliness of the sky is in my lone heart, with rattleing paayal enter into my life, by giving own breaths make the music immortal make the music immortal, make my song immortal. World snatched from me, whatever was beloved to me, all won from me, I lost at every moment, by losing your heart you make my victory immortal. written By "Honthon Se Chhoo Lo Tum - Jagjit Singh

Treat life as a suicide mission, take on the impossible jobs and attack with the gusto of someone who has nothing to lose.... and when you revel in victory, make like it's a dirty win

Try to look less conspicuous,” he instructed. A dog barked, rushed to the end of its lead, and bared its teeth. Gregori turned his head and hissed, exposing white fangs. The dog stopped its aggression instantly, yelped in alarm, and retreated whining. “What are you doing?” Savannah demanded, outraged. “Getting a feel for the place,” he said absently, his mind clearly on other matters, his senses tuned to the world around him. “Everyone is crazy here, Savannah. You are going to fit right in.” He ruffled her hair affectionately.

True writers have multiple personalities. Every one of them is insane.

Trust me, I am nuts!

Those who are crazy enough to think they can change the world usually do.

Watching someone die is never easy. I’ve been trying not to think about it. It’s crazy.

Very gently Jacques lowered her feet to the ground, retaining possession of her waist to help her trembling legs hold her up. Shea raised a hand to push back her rain-slick hair. He caught her fingers and raised her palm to his mouth. “You are the most beautiful sight I have ever seen.” She smiled, shook her head at him. “You’re crazy, you know that? This is one of the most magnificent lightning storms I’ve ever seen, and I didn’t even notice until now.” He grinned at her suggestively, rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Says something.” “Exactly,” she agreed. “You’re crazy, and I must be, too.

We all have memories with someone that makes us go crazy, makes us uncontrollably imagine what we could’ve been with them.

We are never short of craziness

We are all crazy enough to hear the voices but not strong enough to listen

We're all crazy, I believe, just in different ways.

We do what we want; even when it seems crazy.

We live in a society where crazy is the new normal.

we're all freaks sometimes, Melody," he replied. "You're just... well, better at it than most.

We are the craft of our towns.

We share out craziness, our neuroses, our little bit of screwed-up-ness that comes from our family. We share it. And it feels like love.

We've eaten, but he looks hungry, and experience tells me that crazy takes a lot of calories to sustain.

We would not be ashamed of doing some of the things we do in private, if the number of sane human beings who do them in public were large enough.

Well, they never know they're ill, do they? You can't diagnose yourself with the same organ that has the disease, just like you can't see your own eyeball. So, I suppose you just feel normal and the rest of the world seems to go crazy around you.

What I've learnt - to my cost - on several occasions in my life, is that people will put up with all manner of bad behaviour so long as you're giving them what they want. They'll laugh and get into it and enjoy the anecdotes and the craziness and the mayhem as long as you're going your job well, but the minute you're not, you're fucked. They'll wipe their hands of you without a second glance.

What was worse, being crazy or being evil?

What would you rather be, Jackie? Angry mad or crazy mad? I think I'd rather be crazy mad, because you can be crazy and still happy.