“And money is not something to go mad about …”

But when the dawn will come, of our emancipation, from the fear of bondage and the bondage of fear, why, that is a secret.

There is a lovely road that runs from Ixopo into the hills.

There are voices crying what must be done, a hundred, a thousand voices.

For mines are for men, not for money. And money is not something to go mad about, and throw your hat into the air for.

Now God be thanked that the name of a hill is such music, that the name of a river can heal.

To give up the task of reforming society is to give up one’s responsibility as a free man.

Ask yourself not if this or that is expedient, but if it is right.

But the one thing that has power completely is love, because when a man loves, he seeks no power, and therefore he has power.

I am a weak and sinful man, but God put His hands on me, that is all.

The tragedy is not that things are broken.

When men are ruled by fear, they strive to prevent the very changes that will abate it.

But I have learned that kindness and love can pay for pain and suffering.

Who knows for what we live, and struggle, and die?…

Cry for the broken tribe, for the law and the custom that is gone. Aye, and cry aloud for the man who is dead, for the woman and children bereaved.

We do not work for men. We work for the land and the people. We do not even work for money.

Cry, the beloved country, for the unborn child that is the inheritor of our fear. Let him not love the earth too deeply… For fear will rob him of all if he gives too much.

You can tell the size of a man by the size of the thing that makes him mad.

There is less harm to be suffered in being mad among madmen than in being sane all by oneself.

Are we not madder than those first inhabitants of the plain of Sennar? We know that the distance separating the earth from the sky is infinite, and yet we do not stop building our tower.

I discuss with myself questions of politics, love, taste, or philosophy. I let my mind rove wantonly, give it free rein to followany idea, wise or mad that may present itself. My ideas are my harlots.

The most dangerous madmen are those created by religion, and people whose aim is to disrupt society always know how to make good use of them on occasion.

The whole notion of sanity may be an attempt to medicalize morality – to speak of the good in the language of health: to make us more accurate, more scientific in our wanting – but by the same token it becomes a form of moral blackmail.

You, mad to expect repentance,Tear your robe all you want;I will never repent!

I’m just doing what I wanted to and what feels right and not settling for bullshit and it worked. How can they be mad at that?