Me volví loco, con largos intervalos de horrible cordura.

As the strong man exults in his physical ability, delighting in such exercises as call his muscles into action, so glories the analyst in that moral activity which disentangles.

There are chords in the hearts of the most reckless which cannot be touched without emotion.

And now have I not told you that what you mistake for madness is but overacuteness of the senses?

Scorching my seared heart with a pain, not hell shall make me fear again.

Sometimes I’m terrified of my heart; of its constant hunger for whatever it is it wants. The way it stops and starts.

All religion, my friend, is simply evolved out of fraud, fear, greed, imagination, and poetry.