crazy

I know you. Inside and out, Sara. I know you, and I__e accepted it all. Every bit of the crazy. And I love you anyway remember?

If bliss are a type of potato, then ignorance can be french-fried

Beautiful storms dressed in women's clothing.

Margaret is the most beautiful woman I've laid eyes on. The men in this county must be crazy not to see that.

I'll say that you were so beautiful, you made me do ridiculous, reckless things.

If you see an old man talking to himself, he might not be a fool or crazy. He might be sharing a conversation with the past, warmed by a memory he need not reveal.

I once took a poo in the woods while hunched over like an animal. It was AWESOME.

I hate you!_ I screamed at Fang. Tucking my wings in, I aimed downward,diving toward the ground at more than two hundred miles an hour.__o you dooonnn__!_ Fang__ voice spiraled away into nothingness, far aboveme.Inside my head, almost drowned out by the roar of wind rushing by my ears, Iheard the Voice make a tsking sound. You guys are crazy about each other, itsaid.

When I took the pills, I wanted to kill someone I hated. I didn't know that other Veronikas existed inside me, Veronikas that I could love.

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

Can you go cazy without knowing you're crazy?

The cat that laughs is crazy. Man who does not laugh is below... (Le chat qui rit est un fou. - Homme qui ne rit est dessous...)

Son, my dad said, every man needs a bitter, resentful woman in his life. Because there's nothing more touching to a mother's heart than to know that her son thinks of her constantly.

It may come as an extraordinary shock to you but you're the only woman who has ever succeeded in getting under my skin. It could be because you're a raving lunatic.

I don't love you, you know. I'm merely crazy about you.

Having their feelings make sense is how people get their kicks.

What we don't let out traps us. We think, No one else feels this way, I must be crazy. So we don't say anything. And we become enveloped by a deep loneliness, not knowing where our feelings come from or what to do with them. Why do I feel this way?

I take it as a compliment when somebody calls me crazy. I would be offended if I was one of the sheeple, one of the sleepwalkers in the matrix or part of the collective hallucination we call 'normal