Memory whispers someplace in that jumbled machinery.

The job of the writer is to kiss no ass, no matter how big and holy and white and tempting and powerful.

You don't lead by pointing and telling people some place to go. You lead by going to that place and making a case.

Never before did I realize that mental illness could have the aspect of power, power. Think of it: perhaps the more insane a man is, the more powerful he could become. Hitler an example. Fair makes the old brain reel, doesn't it?

Take what you can use and let the rest go by.

The '60s aren't over; they won't be over until the Fat Lady gets high.

Mr. Bibbit, you might warn this Mr. Harding that I'm so crazy I admit to voting for Eisenhower. Bibbit! You tell Mr. McMurphy I'm so crazy I voted for Eisenhower twice! And you tell Mr. Harding right back — he puts both hands on the table and leans down, his voice getting low — that I'm so crazy I plan to vote for Eisenhower again this November.