Sanity In An Insane World Quotes

In a mad world, only the mad are sane.

Pardon My Sanity In A World Insane

A good friend is a connection to life - a tie to the past, a road to the future, the key to sanity in a totally insane world.

Bipolar robs you of that which is you. It can take from you the very core of your being and replace it with something that is completely opposite of who and what you truly are. Because my bipolar went untreated for so long, I spent many years looking in the mirror and seeing a person I did not recognize or understand. Not only did bipolar rob me of my sanity, but it robbed me of my ability to see beyond the space it dictated me to look. I no longer could tell reality from fantasy, and I walked in a world no longer my own.

Crazy people made him crazy. It was as if he personally resented them giving into madness - in part, because he so frequently labored to behave sanely. When some people gave up the labor of sanity, or failed at it, Garp suspected them of not trying hard enough.

In an insane world, sanity made very little sense.

The fact that there is insanity in the world proves that there is some sanity in it as well and we take sides on either subject when neither are good or bad.

The world is too sane. It could use a little madness.

What the world calls sanity has led us to the present planetary crisis...and insanity is the only viable alternative.

Every isolated passion, is, in isolation, insane; sanity may be defined as synthesis of insanities. Every dominant passion generates a dominant fear, the fear of its non-fulfillment. Every dominant fear generates a nightmare, sometimes in form of explicit and conscious fanaticism, sometimes in paralyzing timidity, sometimes in an unconscious or subconscious terror which finds expression only in dreams. The man who wishes to preserve sanity in a dangerous world should summon in his own mind a parliament of fears, in which each in turn is voted absurd by all the others.

The conundrum of sanity and insanity, is that it serves us to be some of each. It's really only a question of degrees. You cannot possibly be 100% adjusted and live in this INSANE world. A little bit of crazy is a coping skill.

In an insane world, sanity made very little sense. No one expected me to live, and therefore, I did. Always.

There is nothing sane, merciful, heroic, devout, redemptive, wise, holy, loving, peaceful, joyous, righteous, gracious, remotely spiritual, or worthy of praise where mass murder is concerned. We have been in this world long enough to know that by now and to understand that nonviolent conflict resolution informed by mutual compassion is the far better option.

The world went insane before I did, I'm just adapting to the new reality.

At the edge you will always remember me, at the edge you will last be remembered, where sanity and insanity come together, for the time, then separates. Like leaves on October trees, that color the world, but for a moment, then leave. At the edge, where life losses its edginess, and thoughts we will become one, someday. At the edge the sun drops, the ring falls, and senses of raindrops climb upwards to the gray sky.

It was the essence of life to disbelieve in death for one's self, to act as if life would continue forever. And life had to act also as if little issues were big ones. To take a realistic attitude toward life and death meant that one lapsed into unreality. Into insanity. It was ironic that the only way to keep one's sanity was to ignore that one was in an insane world or to act as if the world were sane.

What a paradox it is, the sane causes more problems than the insane! It is! The real problems of the world do not come from the insane but, the sane!

She'd been questioning Jenni's sanity for a while now, but then again, they were all slightly insane now, weren't they?

Do you have any idea how mad you sound?’ ‘Indeed I do. I have in moments of doubt considered the question of my sanity.’ (...) ‘And?’ ‘Then I consider what a piece of work is man. How defective in reason, how mean his facilities, how ugly in form and movement, in action how like a devil, in apprehension how like a cow. The beauty of the world? The paragon of animals? To me the quintessence of dust.

American society is uncomfortable with the idea that some people’s lives are difficult past the point of sanity and that they aren’t necessarily to blame. There’s no way you can argue that everyone has a difficult life. This is an incredible culture; the majority of people live in amazing comfort, with real dignity, maybe more comfort and dignity than any other culture in the history of the world. We live relatively safe and sane lives, which, if you’ve ever loved anybody and therefore feared for them, is a wonderful thing. But part of our moral responsibility is to keep in our minds those whose lives are unsafe and insane. In this way, fiction can be like a meditation, a way of saying: Though things are this way for me right now, they could be different later and are different for others this very moment.

I know there is a thin silver line between the sane and the insane, and even in that realm of madness, there are degrees of reason, fluttering moments of clarity and truth. Maybe the world can't handle the their truth. Maybe we are too weak. Maybe, like Sloth used to say, "It's the blind who see the most.

If most people owned up to their own insanity maybe the rest of the world would be diagnosed with sanity and we would lock them up for not fitting into our society.

We are all insane. But how do you distinguish sanity from insanity, how do you diagnose abnormality in this new world?

It's an insane world but in it there is one sanity, the loyalty of old friends

No one wants to occupy a black hole of sadness and despair or slip on the tight rope that separates sanity from insanity, and reside in a vortex devoid of reality. I entered the world as a freeman and desire to escape a state of existential vertigo. I yearn to discover a synthesizing spirit of my being and hold my head high, free of doubt, and devoid of fear. I wish to foment the cerebral energy to stave off premature destruction and forevermore blunt an intolerable state of anguish.

O SANITY It’s only sane to be insane Psychotic builds a castle And neurotic lives in it I don’t know what to do with my sanity When the world’s at the verge of calamity O’ sanity, o’ sanity What am I to do with you Drink up, shoot up, anything you please But you’re always standing behind me Like a devil in hell O’ sanity, sanity Why don’t you let me go? Let go, let go! Cut it out!

[...] nobody anywhere seemed to be willing to ponder for a moment the possibility that a human being who refused to participate, who refused to speak or listen, who failed to ‘interact with his peer group‘, might not be all that crazy, and might even have arrived at an understandable response to the world in which we lived.

In today's world hunger for sanity seems to be more intense than our hunger for food.

Sometimes the craziest laugh in the world is the only one that will save your sanity.

But here was a woman taken without her own consent from the free world to an asylum and there given no chance to prove her sanity. Confined most probably for life behind asylum bars, without even being told in her language the why and wherefore. Compare this with a criminal, who is given every chance to prove his innocence. Who would not rather be a murderer and take the chance for life than be declared insane, without hope of escape?

For, what is order without common sense, but Bedlam’s front parlor? What is imagination without common sense, but the aspiration to out-dandy Beau Brummell with nothing but a bit of faded muslin and a limp cravat? What is Creation without common sense, but a scandalous thing without form or function, like a matron with half a dozen unattached daughters? And God looked upon the Creation in all its delightful multiplicity, and saw that, all in all, it was quite Amiable.

Mental health sufferers are not crazy. They have special insight. You better recognize that setting aside your interest people to stay asleep and show empathy towards God's imperfect creations, otherwise the world has no meaning to exist.

She stopped shrieking after a moment. It wasn't the crazy looks she drew from the other pedestrians that made her stop. And her damaged sanity hadn't managed to repair itself. She'd left something behind in that apartment. Something she'd always taken for granted. Faith in a rational world. It was like a tiny cog had been removed from her brain, and all the gears were still working, but a slight wobble was slowly and inevitably stripping the teeth until one day, without warning the Rube Goldberg device that was her mind would fall apart with a loud SPROING.

The Holy Spirit Asks that you accept the idea of one mind wholeheartedly, for this is the Correction to the error called ego. The ego was the belief in private minds with private thoughts, but if mind is one the ego has no foundation on which to stand. Forgiveness reflects the oneness that shines beyond perception. Forgiveness unifies and shows the world anew. You are not going insane, you are going inward to sanity of mind. And unified perception is the gateway to the remembrance of God and Christ.

Many of the haters call me mental, which, by the way, is quite true, both metaphorically and clinically. It's true clinically because I am a person on the spectrum with OCD, and metaphorically, because I refuse to accept the sanity of unaccountability as the right way of civilized life. I am not going to glorify the issues of mental illness by saying that it's a super power or that it makes a person special. On the contrary, it makes things extremely difficult for a person. But guess what! Indifference is far more dangerous than any mental illness. Because mental illness can be managed with treatment, but there is no treatment for indifference, there is no treatment for coldness, there is no treatment for apathy. So, let everyone hear it, and hear it well - in a world where indifference is deemed as sanity what's needed is a whole lot of mentalness, a whole lot of insanity, insanity for justice, insanity for equality, insanity for establishing the fundamental rights of life and living for each and every human being, no matter who they are, what they are, or where they are.

I would never regain any memories of this seizure, or the ones to come. This moment, my first serious blackout, marked the line between sanity and insanity. Though I would have moments of lucidity over the coming weeks, I would never again be the same person. This was the start of the dark period of my illness, as I began an existence in purgatory between the real world and a cloudy, fictitious realm made up of hallucinations and paranoia. From this point on, I would increasingly be forced to rely on outside sources to piece together this “lost time.

Do you understand the depth of the harm of making someone question their sanity? This is serious shit. This is not like "Whoops, I brought you the strawberry ice cream and forgot you like banana better." It is poking a hole in someone's fundamental capacity to engage with reality. Understand it in a context in which women have been told every day for their entire lives that their perceptions cannot be trusted—when in fact our perceptions are often bang on—and you have a systemic, pervasive, deeply psychologically harmful phenomenon, insanity by a thousand cuts.

Other animals are exceptionally good at identifying and reacting to predators, rivals and friends. They never act as if they believe that rivers or trees are inhabited by spirits who are watching. In all these ways, other animals continually demonstrate their working knowledge that they live in a world brimming with other minds as well as their knowledge of those minds' boundaries. their understanding seems more acute, pragmatic, and frankly, better than ours at distinguishing real from fake. So, I wonder, do humans really have a better developed Theory of Mind than other animals? ...Children talk to dolls for years, half believing or firmly believing that the doll hears and feels and is a worthy confidante. Many adults pray to statues, fervently believing that they're listening. ...All of this indicates a common human inability to distinguish conscious minds from inanimate objects, and evidence from nonsense. Children often talk to a fully imaginary friends whom they believe listens and has thoughts. Monotheism might be the adult version. ...In the world's most technologically advanced, most informed societies, a majority people take it for granted that disembodied spirits are watching, judging, and acting on them. Most leaders of modern nations trust that a Sky-God can be asked to protect their nation during disasters and conflicts with other nations. All of this is theory of mind gone wild, like an unguided fire hose spraying the whole universe with presumed consciousness. Humans' "superior" Theory of Mind is in part pathology. The oft repeated line "humans are rational beings" is probably our most half-true assertion about ourselves. There is in nature an overriding sanity and often in humankind an undermining insanity. We, among all animals, are most frequently irrational, distortional, delusional, and worried. Yet, I also wonder, is our pathological ability to generate false beliefs...also the very root of human creativity?

People are crazy. The values of the world are crazy. What does predatory free-market capitalism care about sanity and values? Capitalism will do anything for a profit. If madness sells – which it does – capitalism will not hesitate to pander to it. Reason, logic and mathematics don’t sell, so capitalism and mainstream culture avoid them like the plague. Reason and logic are the antidote to insanity, but they are the things most rejected by an insane culture. Catch-22. That’s why the Insanity Wars can end in only one way: Cataclysm. The Dumbocalypse is almost upon us. The Dumbageddon conspiracy is going into overdrive. But from the ashes of old humanity, new humanity shall arise like the phoenix. The dawn of the HyperHuman lies on the far side of the eclipse of the dunce.

Any fiction writer who has never had his work misunderstood couldn't have written a lot. Somehow along the way you are going to run into people who will take a knowledgeable look at a character in your story and thereafter become able to make that fictional person, you. The story of that character becomes your life; the attitudes and proclivities become your character, and soon your real self is fighting for assertion. Don't take it personal though. The truth is that most people don't know how to read fiction. Most people just don't have the imagination to understand that fiction exists. They are the realists of our world. They are the people who provide that important measure of sanity to counterweight the controlled insanity of creative people. They are the ones who keep this world from toppling over. Learn to love them.

...we have no right to decide off-hand that it is an unnatural pleasure to eat sawdust. A man might be constituted so that he liked it. And so long as his peculiarity doesn't damage or interfere with other people, there's no reason why he shouldn't be left alone. But if it is the man's fixed belief that sawdust eating is essential to human happiness; if he attributes almost everything that happens either to the effects of eating it or not eating it; if he imagines that most of the people he meets are also sawdust-eaters, and above all, if he thinks that the salvation of the world depends entirely upon making laws to compel people to eat sawdust, whether they like it or not, then it is fair to say that his mind is unbalanced on the subject; and that, further, the practice itself, however innocent it may appear, is in that particular case perverse. Sanity consists in the proper equilibrium of ideas in general. That is the only sense in which it is true that genius is connected with insanity.

Let us begin, then, with the mad-house; from this evil and fantastic inn let us set forth on our intellectual journey. Now, if we are to glance at the philosophy of sanity, the first thing to do in the matter is to blot out one big and common mistake. There is a notion adrift everywhere that imagination, especially mystical imagination, is dangerous to man’s mental balance. Poets are commonly spoken of as psychologically unreliable; and generally there is a vague association between wreathing laurels in your hair and sticking straws in it. Facts and history utterly contradict this view. Most of the very great poets have been not only sane, but extremely business-like; and if Shakespeare ever really held horses, it was because he was much the safest man to hold them. Imagination does not breed insanity. Exactly what does breed insanity is reason. Poets do not go mad; but chess-players do. Mathematicians go mad, and cashiers; but creative artists very seldom. I am not, as will be seen, in any sense attacking logic: I only say that this danger does lie in logic, not in imagination. Artistic paternity is as wholesome as physical paternity. Moreover, it is worthy of remark that when a poet really was morbid it was commonly because he had some weak spot of rationality on his brain. Poe, for instance, really was morbid; not because he was poetical, but because he was specially analytical. Even chess was too poetical for him; he disliked chess because it was full of knights and castles, like a poem. He avowedly preferred the black discs of draughts, because they were more like the mere black dots on a diagram. Perhaps the strongest case of all is this: that only one great English poet went mad, Cowper. And he was definitely driven mad by logic, by the ugly and alien logic of predestination. Poetry was not the disease, but the medicine; poetry partly kept him in health. He could sometimes forget the red and thirsty hell to which his hideous necessitarianism dragged him among the wide waters and the white flat lilies of the Ouse. He was damned by John Calvin; he was almost saved by John Gilpin. Everywhere we see that men do not go mad by dreaming. Critics are much madder than poets. Homer is complete and calm enough; it is his critics who tear him into extravagant tatters. Shakespeare is quite himself; it is only some of his critics who have discovered that he was somebody else. And though St. John the Evangelist saw many strange monsters in his vision, he saw no creature so wild as one of his own commentators. The general fact is simple. Poetry is sane because it floats easily in an infinite sea; reason seeks to cross the infinite sea, and so make it finite. The result is mental exhaustion, like the physical exhaustion of Mr. Holbein. To accept everything is an exercise, to understand everything a strain. The poet only desires exaltation and expansion, a world to stretch himself in. The poet only asks to get his head into the heavens. It is the logician who seeks to get the heavens into his head. And it is his head that splits.

The clear transmission of facts and evidence becomes irrelevant in the hyperemotional space of social media. Facts come from a world external to ourselves—namely, reality. Actually, that’s the whole point. But in the social media world, they are either meaningless or threatening to the self we’re constructing and protecting. The world can’t help but degrade into “It’s all about me.” Deluged with information filtered through the lens of popular self, our internal monitoring causes the world to shrink: Did the news make me feel bad? Turn it off. Did that comment upset me? Blast the messenger. Did that criticism hurt me? Get depressed or strike back. This is the tragedy of self-reference where, instead of responding to information from the external environment to create an orderly system of relationships, the narrow band of information obsessively processed creates isolation, stress, and self-defense.6 Focused internally, the outside world where facts reside doesn’t have meaning. Our communication with one another via the Web generates extreme reactions. Think about how small events take over the Internet because people get upset from a photo and minimal information. There doesn’t have to be any basis in fact or any understanding of more complex reasons for why this event happened. People see the visual, comment on it, and viral hysteria takes over. Even when more context is given later that could help people understand the event, it doesn’t change their minds. People go back to scanning and posting, and soon there is another misperceived event to get hysterical about. One commentator calls this “infectious insanity.”7

At that moment he happily became the ‘walking crazy’: those who are conscious of the fact that they have lost their sanity, and that in losing their sanity, they have reached a higher level of existence. And as the walking crazy, the young man closed his eyes and fell deeply within, finding there not darkness but other worlds, complete other spaces where he was free from all physical pain and struggle.

It is easy to see how, in a world as devoid of meaning as the one that all of these fictional characters inhabit - a world modeled closely on the real modern world - madness is both a legitimate response and an effective challenge to the superficial sanity of the social order and historical process…only the person out of step with society has an appropriate vantage point from which to view its failings; only the person who fails to obey the institutions that mandate certain behaviors can appreciate their rigidity and the consequences of nonconformity. And only those who are victims of the system can bring about real reforms in it. Only the inmates can run the asylum - and, as much of the best experimental fiction of recent years suggests, only the inmates should.

Wipe Out The I (The Sonnet) Once a person gives up all for others, They'll achieve everything worth achieving. The art of self-discovery is in self-annihilation, Whereas self-obsession only causes suffering. Once a person is insane with the sacrificial spirit, They'll know the meaning of civilized sanity. Once a person feels the joy of selflessness, All worldly pleasures will turn into foul vanity. Once a person hones the power of simplicity, They'll trash all trace of pomposity from life. Once a person senses the valor of humility, They'll discard all arrogant divide. Life is simple, but we mess it up with selfishness. Wipe out the I, and you will taste its sweetness.

Crazy starts with a flicker; the flicker will soon turn into a flame, turning everything into ash. In the isolation of my darkness, I first noticed my life's ashes building at the tips of my cigarettes. The real world, my world, my sanity and insanity... they all become the same.

Is there a scale for sanity? Was I ever really insane? How insane had I been? For years I'd held onto the label of insanity as both a medal of freedom and a scarlet letter. Insanity granted me permission to do as I felt. If I wanted to take my shoes off and jump in puddles in the parking lot of a grocery store, I could. I wasn't scared of the world around me and I wasn't scared of others. Insanity had granted me permission to run through the rain naked. Insanity had also locked me in dark rooms for days. Insanity added weight to my body and then starved me. Insanity ruined friendships and relationships. Insanity gave me an excuse to not apologize. Insanity has a duality we don't discuss. I decided somewhere between Cuba and Spain that we all have a little insanity in us.

INTROSPECTION AND INSANITY: A GODELIAN PROBLEM I think it can have suggestive value to translate Godel's Theorem into other domains, provided one specifies in advance that the translations are metaphorical and are not intended to be taken literally. That having been said, I see two major ways of using analogies to connect Godel's Theorem and human thoughts. One involves the problem of wondering about one's sanity. How can you figure out if you are sane? This is a Strange Loop indeed. Once you begin to question your own sanity, you can get trapped in an ever-tighter vortex of self-fulfilling prophecies, though the process is by no means inevitable. Everyone knows that the insane interpret the world via their own peculiarly consistent logic; how can you tell if your own logic is 'peculiar' or not, given that you have only your own logic to judge itself? I don't see any answer. I am just reminded of Godel's second Theorem, which implies that the only versions of formal number theory which assert their own consistency are inconsistent...

If positive thinking can increase productivity, then maybe increasing our productivity can increase positive thinking”.

Writing when perched along a ledge of conscious awareness while simultaneously giving voice to the unconscious voice tumbling within allows a writer to tap into the external world of the known while also exploring the unconscious world of the unknown and the unknowable. For as long as I can stand the mounting pressure, I dance along this tremulous thin line separating sanity and insanity, mediating the conflicts between a lucid intellect and an impulsive, instinctual nature. Captivated in this submerged psyche space, disengaged from conscious tether of personal identity, and free from the jaundiced constraints and dictatorial commands of rational logic, I operate unencumbered by preconceived limitations.

The whole world had gone mad, and sanity looked insane.

...If you have to go round digging up graves to prove your own sanity then you've probably already lost it.

You can say that if you went crazy then you were crazy, and you couldn't tell what was real and what wasn't. But that isn't the way it works, not in the real world. I mean, that's the sad thing about insane people; almost all of them know perfectly well that something is seriously wrong with them; that's what makes them so scared, so depressed. They know.

To defend what we love is sanity; insanity is to continue to act with irresponsibility when a biological limit has been overrun, and with it the deepest human propriety. One-third of the world’s natural resources have already been expended, so it doesn’t take much effort to figure out that current levels of consumption are far from indefinitely sustainable.

In a world where indifference is deemed as sanity what's needed is a whole lot of mentalness, a whole lot of insanity, insanity for justice, insanity for equality, insanity for establishing the fundamental rights of life and living for each and every human being.

All The World's An Asylum (Sonnet 1235) All the world's an asylum, All the people are lunatics. Some are but loonies of love, Some loonies run by prejudice. Some die running in love of currency, Some die sharing the currency of love. Beyond the grasp of dollar and euro, Love is the only nonvolatile currency in the world. It's good to be a loonie, If the reason is justly humane. When human welfare is at stake, It's only logical to be insane. Sane, insane - be as the need arises, To hell with the judgment of nitwits! In an organic world no sanity is absolute, Boldly walk the spectrum as the purpose fits.

I Expand, Therefore I Am (The Sonnet) I expand, therefore I am, Thought is no measure of sapiens. Even a dog can think what's best for it, Such selfishness is no existence. Expansion makes the human, Inclusion strengthens life. Diversity beautifies society, There is no room for divide. Sanity lies in unselfishness, Selfishness is inhumanity. When all world becomes one family, That my friend is true community. Let us be vast and breathe in the world. Let us show all, the blue dot is no less bold.

Sanity begins with insanity.

A good friend is a connection to life - a tie to the past, a road to the future, the key to sanity in a totally insane world. ~Lois Wyse~

Peygamber Parabrahma (The Sonnet) In a world where segregation is sanity, True sanity begins with insanity. You have to be insane to be egalitarian, Inclusion is instilled through insanity. In a world where indifference is sanity, True sanity begins with insanity. You have to be insane to take a stand, Accountability comes through insanity. In a world where selfishness is sanity, True sanity begins with insanity. You have to be insane to be wiped out for others, Amidst inhumanity, humanity comes through insanity. Sanity beyond sanity comes from the human beyond human. Only such human is peygamber, such human is parabrahman.

Sanity is poison on the fabric of love, The sanity that world peddles is but coldness. Such sanity has no place in civilization, It belongs in museum next to the bones of a t-rex.

If the world is insane then you'd be a fool to try and look for sanity to answer the call.

I’ve been an inmate in Broadmoor, Rampton and Ashworth. I was one of ‘them’. I was once Britain’s most unstable madman! This book is a complete one off! If you’re a nervous type of reader then don’t read it. You’ve been warned! You are now entering the world of insanity; please keep hold of your sanity until the book comes to a stop!

In the scales of the gigantic balance-pan in Nijinsky’s brain, the world’s misery bulked heavy on one side. But the other? First, there was dancing, the rhythmic, violent Dionysian upsurge of the vital energies; while he could dance regularly, every day, and restore contact with the vital, instinctive parts of his own being, Nijinsky could not go insane. Sanity lay in creation.

Further, there is no trustworthy standard by which we can separate the "real" from the "unreal" aspects of phenomena. Such standards as exist are conventional: and correspond to convenience, not to truth. It is no argument to say that most men see the world in much the same way, and that this "way" is the true standard of reality: though for practical purposes we have agreed that sanity consists in sharing the hallucinations of our neighbours.

Sanity is socially and politically determined and when politics change, the definition of who is well and unwell, who is sane and who is sick, tends to change with it. The traits of good mental health, of the supposedly well-balanced individual, are often suspiciously similar to those of the compliant citizen, the obedient worker, the dutiful woman - whatever those traits might be, depending on the mood of the world and the whims of the powerful. Those who oppose the existing order can count on being labelled as deranged, as irrational, especially if they make the mistake of showing emotion in a power regime that considers all emotions weakness, all feelings laughable - except the rage of the ‘white working class’, as long as this is properly harnessed in the service of vested interests.

When admitting you are wrong, you gain back the control others took away from you when making you lose it. That's why you must say sorry. It represents a change of attitude but not really a change of personality; The changes on the personality come later on, when, by controlling yourself better, you don't express anger. Because saying sorry means nothing but anger means a lot. You should not want to be an angry person. When you get angry, those who make you angry, win; They win control over your emotional state, your thoughts, your words and your behaviors. They may then accuse you of always being angry and never apologizing, but that's not where you should focus your attention. The main point here, is that you’re living on the basis of instinctive reaction and not awareness or consciousness. So, when you say sorry, you are acknowledging that there is no excuse for losing control over yourself. You should not be sorry for being angry. That's an emotion; and you can't feel sorry for feeling. When you’re angry, you are feeling. When you insult, however, you are losing, yourself, your self-control, your self-respect, and even your capacity to use what you know. More knowledge, makes you more aware, more frustrated, having more and higher expectations on others, and more angry too, more often as well. But that's your problem! No other people's problem! They are just being themselves. Most people really think they are perfect as they are, and that the problems they experience are all outside themselves. And by realizing that, you say sorry as if saying sorry for not being who you really are. And when doing it, you get back the control another person took away from you. It is actually not good when someone needs to say sorry too often to someone else, especially if it’s always the same individual. But that someone else often likes it, as it makes them feel superior. That’s because their ego needs that. They have low self-esteem. Most people do! And that’s why most people's behavior is wired to their ego. Their likes and dislikes are connected to a sense of self-importance and a desperate need to feel important, which they project on their idols, the famous and most popular among them. They admire what they seek the most. When they think they are not important, they offend, to get aggression, which is a desperate need for attention; and to feel like victims of life, which is a deeper state of need, in this case, related to sympathy; and they then blame the other for what he does, for his reactions; and when that other says sorry, they think they have power over that insane cycle in which they now live, and in which they incorporate anyone else, and which they now perfectly master. Their pride is built on arrogance, an arrogance emerged out of ignorance, ignorance composed from delusional cycles within a big illusion; but an illusion that makes sense to them, as if they were succeeding at merging truth with lie, darkness with light. Because the arrogant, the abusive and the violent are desperate. God made them blind after witnessing their crimes against moral and ethics - His own laws. And they want to see again, and feel the same pleasure they once felt when witnessing the true colors of the world during childhood. The arrogant want to reaffirm their sanity by acting insanely because they know no other way. And when you say sorry, you are saying to them that you don't belong there, to their world, and that you are sorry for playing their games. That drama belongs to them only, and not you. And yet, people interpret the same paradox as they choose. That is their experience of truth and how they put sense on a life without any. And when so much nonsense becomes popular, we call it common sense. When common sense becomes a reality, we call it science. And when science is able to theorize common sense, we call it wisdom. Then, we wonder why the wisdom of those we name wise, does not help.

Their insanity was affecting my sanity until I found my antidote in art.

Anybody can populate a planet, by consent or by force, but to master the forces of a planet, it takes valour, curiosity and a ton of insanity - insanity for justice, insanity for equality, insanity for upliftment - without this insanity in a handful of lionhearts, no amount of sanity can lift up the torch of progress. Be vigorous, be insane and use your force of life for the good of your people, your society, your humankind, nay, our humankind.

Sanity is a limitation. Why do we need to accept what is sane or insane? My world is different to your world. But who is right?

We must stay sane in this world of insanity

The writer seems to have a certain responsibility towards the reader. You see, I myself write to explore my wandering thoughts and fleeting emotions. Therefore be able to cognise, ponder, and reflect, in hope to comprehend my mind and inner being a little bit better. I write to know myself. I write to keep my (in)sanity. Put more bluntly, I write because I must. When it comes to sharing the writings, I don’t do it to convince anyone with anything nor to prove any views. There is nothing to sell. I do it to offer the readers and the world a chance to enjoy my point of views — along with my sense of wonder, curiosity and confusion. I share so they may think for themselves; for them to question everything; for them to find their own Truth. I equally share so that those who think alike know they are not alone. For I am you and what I see is me. Not just as a reflection of humanity, as a writer or thinker, but also as a provocateur of a sort.

The writer seems to have a certain responsibility towards the reader. I myself write to explore my wandering thoughts and fleeting emotions. Therefore be able to cognise, ponder, and reflect, in hope to comprehend my mind and inner being a little bit better. I write to know myself. I write to keep my (in)sanity. Put more bluntly, I write because I must. When it comes to sharing the writings, I don’t do it to convince anyone with anything nor to prove any views. There is nothing to sell. I do it to offer the readers and the world a chance to enjoy my point of views — along with my sense of wonder, curiosity and confusion. I share so they may think for themselves; for them to question everything; for them to find their own Truth. I equally share so that those who think alike know they are not alone. For I am you and what I see is me. Not just as a reflection of humanity, as a writer or thinker, but also as a provocateur of a sort.

Sometimes getting insane is all worth it, because sanity doesn’t make sense all the time.

Surely the world will return to sanity once this insanity is over.