“Kings fight for empires, madmen for applause.”

As one that neither seeks, nor shuns his foe.

Railing and praising were his usual themes; and both showed his judgment in extremes. Either over violent or over civil, so everyone to him was either god or devil.

Freedom which in no other land will thrive, Freedom an English subject’s sole prerogative.

More liberty begets desire of more; The hunger still increases with the store.

Let grace and goodness be the principal loadstone of thy affections.

God never made his work for man to mend.

Luxurious kings are to their people lost, They live like drones, upon the public cost.

There’s a proud modesty in merit; averse from asking, and resolved to pay ten times the gifts it asks.

Dreams are but interludes that fancy makes… Sometimes forgotten things, long cast behind Rush forward in the brain, and come to mind.

Repentance is but want of power to sin.

The love of liberty with life is given, And life itself the inferior gift of Heaven.

Virtue in distress, and vice in triumph make atheists of mankind.

Nothing to build, and all things to destroy.

But how can finite grasp Infinity?

Boldness is a mask for fear, however great.

Beauty, like ice, our footing does betray; Who can tread sure on the smooth, slippery way: Pleased with the surface, we glide swiftly on, And see the dangers that we cannot shun.

Even if you make mistakes, I go back to those things, my not-so-great moments because those are my truest moments; those are my human moments. I’m not even mad at the things I said that were a little dicey.

I sometimes think we must be all mad and that we shall wake to sanity in strait-waistcoats.

We’re all mad, the whole damned race. We’re wrapped in illusions, delusions, confusions about the penetrability of partitions, we’re all mad and in solitary confinement.

It’s true Fang and I fight, but we’ve never gone to bed mad. Of course, one year we were up for three months.

All men are mad in some way or the other, and inasmuch as you deal discreetly with your madmen, so deal with God’s madmen too, the rest of the world.

They made it to the middle class, my dad working as a bartender and my mother as a cashier and a maid. I didn’t inherit any money from them. But I inherited something far better – the real opportunity to accomplish my dreams.

My wife gets so mad at me because I don’t like to cook on the grill.

He’s right: They have to put madmen with madmen.