The Bursar was not, as many thought, insane. On the contrary, he was a man with both feet firmly on the ground, the only difficulty being that the ground in question was on some other planet, the one with the fluffy pink clouds and the happy little bunnies. He did not mind because he much preferred it to the real one, where people shouted too much, and he spent as little time there as possible. (SODW)
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When it came to getting weird things done, sane beat mad hands down. (TOT)
... he was incurably insane and hallucinated more or less continuously, but by a remarkable stroke of lateral thinking his fellow wizards had reasoned that, in that case, the whole business could be sorted out if only they could find a formula that caused him to hallucinate that he was completely sane. (TT)
Mister Teatime had a truly brilliant mind, but it was brilliant like a fractured mirror, all marvellous facets and rainbows but, ultimately, also something that was broken.
Mister Teatime enjoyed himself too much. And other people, also. (H) 'You’re daft, Walter Plinge,’ she said.
‘Daft as a broom Mrs Ogg!’ said Walter cheerfully. But you ain’t insane, she thought. You’re daft but you’re sane. That’s what Esme would say. And there’s worser things. (Ma) The Bursar was not technically insane. He had passed through the rapids of insanity some time previously, and was now sculling around in some peaceful pool on the other side. He was often quite coherent, although not by normal human standards. (IT)
It is said that whosoever the gods wish to destroy, they first make mad. In fact, whosoever the gods wish to destroy, they first hand the equivalent of a stick with a fizzing fuse and Acme Dynamite Company written on the side. It’s more interesting, and doesn’t take so long. (SM)
'He’s mad, isn’t he?’
‘No, mad’s when you froth at the mouf,’ said Gaspode. ‘He’s insane. That’s when you froth at the brain.' (MA) He was, of course, mad. He’d occasionally suspected this. But he took the view that madness should not be wasted. (SG)
'Did I hear things, or can that little dog speak?’ said Dibbler.
He says he can’t,’ said Victor. Dibbler hesitated. The excitement was unhinging him a little. ‘Well,’ he said, ‘I suppose he should know.' (MP) It wasn’t that he’d been talking to a dog. People often talked to dogs. The same applied to the cat. And maybe even the rabbit. It was the conversation with the mouse and the duck that might be considered odd. (MP)
'Multiple exclamation marks,’ he went on, shaking his head, ‘are a sure sign of a diseased mind.' (E)
The duke had a mind that ticked like a clock and, like a clock, it regularly went cuckoo. (WS)
'No one goes mad quicker than a totally sane person.' (LF)
He’d tried to introduce Ephebian democracy to Lancre, giving the vote to everyone, or at least everyone “who be of good report and who be male and hath forty years and owneth a hosue worth more than three and a half goats a year,” because there’s no sense in being stupid about things and giving the vote to people who were poor or criminal or insane or female, who’d only use it irresponsibly. (LL)
'No sane mortal is truly free, because true freedom is so terrible that only the mad or the divine can face it with open eyes.' (GP)
You couldn’t be a real copper in Ankh-Morpork and stay sane. You had to care. And caring in Ankh-Morpork was like opening a tin of meat in the middle of a piranha school. (MA)
... one of the symptoms of those going completely yoyo was that they broke out in chronic cats. Usually cats who’d mastered every detail of feline existence except the whereabouts of the dirt box. (H)
‘You’ve got to admit he was real royalty,’ said Nanny Ogg, eventually. ‘It only goes to show, royalty goes eccentric far
better than the likes of you and me.' (WS) |
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