“Ah," said the jailer, "do not always brood over what is impossible, or you will be mad in a fortnight.”

“The mind is always asking you to do something over again, something you have already done so many times before. And every time you see that by doing it nothing is achieved. What else can madness be?”

“I feel sorry for players who are always lying awake at night, brooding over their games.”

“Ah,' the innkeeper said. 'So you were getting ready to drink then?'
'Tiny Gods, yes,' Bast said. 'To great excess. What the hell else is there to do?”

“But I don’t want to go among mad people," Alice remarked.
"Oh, you can’t help that," said the Cat: "we’re all mad here. I’m mad. You’re mad."
"How do you know I’m mad?" said Alice.
"You must be," said the Cat, "or you wouldn’t have come here.”

“Often-times it's madness, not genius that moves the world forward. Who else but the mad would reach so far, stretching for the impossible and, in so doing, prove the impossible possible!”

“You did what you did out of love. I can't be mad at you over that. It was stupid, but that's how love is. Do you have any idea what I'd do for you? To keep you safe?”

“Endless brooding over a question undermines you as much as a dull pain.”

“The trouble with you,” the Ugly Girl said, “is that you think you know just what everyone should do, don’t you?”
The Mad Duke smiled at her. His face was bright and sharp, smooth and glittering. “Yes,” he said, “I do.”
“And what,” she said, “if you’re wrong?”

“Ah, but I’m wise,” Athena said. “Wise enough to make you do it instead.”