Krisztus Felt Mad Sa Quotes

He felt that if he brooded on what he had gone through he would sicken or grow mad. There were sins whose fascination was more in the memory than in the doing of them, strange triumphs that gratified the pride more than the passions, and gave to the intellect a quickened sense of joy, greater than any joy they brought, or could ever bring, to the senses. But this was not one of them. It was a thing to be driven out of the mind, to be drugged with poppies, to be strangled lest it might strangle one itself. ~ Oscar Wilde

Tristan followed so close behind her she could feel his hot breath on the back of her neck. Again.
"Ten foot rule," called Nate.
"Bite me!" Tristan hollered back, more hot breath caressing her skin with his words. A wonderful shiver ran through her body. Damn him and his beautiful mouth and hot breath and his leather-smelling shirt. She assumed he was headed to his own room in the basement, but when she walked into the guest bedroom, he followed her inside. She turned around to tell him to leave her alone, but his bright green eyes derailed her words. He was so pretty…
No! No. He was not pretty. He was in danger of dying. Focus on the danger, Scarlet. She glared at him. "What are you doing?"
"I'm sleeping with you."
Was he insane? She lifted a brow. "I thought you were mad at me."
"I'm concerned. Not mad."
"Huh. Well either way you're not sleeping with me."
"Yes, I am."
He was insane. "No," Scarlet repeated. "You're not. You could die, Tristan. We can't touch and we certainly can't…sleep together." She felt her face flush.
A look of amusement crossed his face. "I meant sleep, Scar."
"Oh. Well." She cleared her throat. "I don't want to wake up next to a corpse, so, like…scram. ~ Chelsea Fine

In the half darkness I winked to my other self, my mad dictator, and congratulated him on his droll victory. I closed my eyes and felt the warmth flowing from Shosha's head to my face. What did I have to lose? Nothing more than what everyone loses anyway. ~ Isaac Bashevis Singer

To what exactly had I felt entitled with Bill? There is an answer: Joy. Not happiness, which by that time seemed a fantasy one had to agree to give up in order to keep from going mad. By forty, is there anyone who hasn't had to recognize that happiness, as understood by youth, is illusory? That the best one can hope for is an absence of too many tragedies and that the road through the inevitable grief be, if not smooth, then steady? Daily life was a pale gray thing, it seemed, and to expect otherwise was to be a fool - at best. ~ Robin Black

At any rate, when I began photographing myself, I could place myself in poses that had not been investigated by other artists. It was an area other artists hadn't touched. Then, I went on from there. I manipulated my image - distorting it, brutalizing it. People thought I was mad, but I felt I had to tell these things. It gave me a kind of excitement. ~ Lucas Samaras

I'm not too sure what the name of the song was that he was playing when I came in, but whatever it was, he was really stinking it up. He was putting all these dumb, show-offy ripples in the high notes, and a lot of other very tricky stuff that gives me a pain in the ass. You should've heard the crowd, though, when he was finished. You would've puked. They went mad. They were exactly the same morons that laugh like hyenas in the movies at stuff that isn't funny. I swear to God, if I were a piano player or an actor or something and all those dopes though I was terrific, I'd hate it. I wouldn't even want them to clap for me. People always clap for the wrong things. If I were a piano player, I'd play it in the goddam closet. Anyway, when he was finished, and everybody was clapping their heads off, old Ernie turned around on his stool and gave this very phony, humble bow. Like as if he was a helluva humble guy, besides being a terrific piano player. It was very phony - I mean him being such a big snob and all. In a funny way, though, I felt sort of sorry for him when he was finished. I don't even think he knows any more when he's playing right or not. It isn't all his fault. I partly blame all those dopes that clap their heads off - they'd foul up anybody, if you gave them a chance. ~ J.D. Salinger

I've heard that hat making drives people mad," Pandora remarked. "Which I don't understand, because it doesn't seem tedious enough to do that." "It isn't the job that drives them mad," West said. "It's the mercury solution they use to smooth the felt. After repeated exposure, it addles the brain. Hence the term 'mad as a hatter. ~ Lisa Kleypas

Statistics say that a range of mental disorders affects more than one in four Americans in any given year. That means millions of Americans are totally batshit.
but having perused the various tests available that they use to determine whether you're manic depressive. OCD, schizo-affective, schizophrenic, or whatever, I'm surprised the number is that low. So I have gone through a bunch of the available tests, and I've taken questions from each of them, and assembled my own psychological evaluation screening which I thought I'd share with you.
So, here are some of the things that they ask to determine if you're mentally disordered
1. In the last week, have you been feeling irritable?
2. In the last week, have you gained a little weight?
3. In the last week, have you felt like not talking to people?
4. Do you no longer get as much pleasure doing certain things as you used to?
5. In the last week, have you felt fatigued?
6. Do you think about sex a lot?
If you don't say yes to any of these questions either you're lying, or you don't speak English, or you're illiterate, in which case, I have the distinct impression that I may have lost you a few chapters ago. ~ Carrie Fisher

Instead he felt only love. And that was the miracle. The surge in hatred since the war began had created more love around it. It was indomitable, mad, and everlasting, scattered through the rich and the poor, deep and calm in the Quakers, hot and fierce in the mothers, faithful in the warriors, wistful in the pets, seeping its way into mercy and atrocity, destroying things, rebuilding them. ~ Kathy Hepinstall

After he saw God [Tony Amsterdam] felt really good, for around a year. And then he felt really bad. Worse than he ever had before in his life. Because one day it came over him, he began to realize, that he was never going to see God again; he was going to live out his whole remaining life, decades, maybe fifty years, and see nothing but what he had always seen. What we see. He was worse off than if he hadn't seen God. He told me one day he got really mad; he just freaked out and started cursing and smashing things in his apartment. He even smashed his stereo. He realized he was going to have to live on and on like he was, seeing nothing. Without any purpose. Just a lump of flesh grinding along, eating, drinking, sleeping, working, crapping."

"Like the rest of us." It was the first thing Bob Arctor had managed to say; each word came with retching difficulty.

Donna said, "That's what I told him. I pointed that out. We were all in the same boat and it didn't freak the rest of us. And he said, 'You don't know what I saw. You don't know.' ~ Philip K. Dick

The people in this house, I felt, and I included myself, were like characters each from a different grim and gruesome fairy tale. None of us was in the same story. We were all grotesques, and self-riveted, but in separate narratives, and so our interactions seemed weird and richly meaningless, like the characters in a Tennessee Williams play, with their bursting unimportant, but spell-bindingly mad speeches. ~ Lorrie Moore

He felt as if he were under an intolerable physical strain, as if his body were likely at any moment to fly to pieces. Other strange physical symptoms came to trouble him. An unpleasant odour lingered in his nostrils, as if he could literally smell the sulphur of the pit; and he had from time to time the curious illusion that his flesh was turning black. He had to look continually at his hands to be sure that it was not so. Nightmares troubled him, waking and sleeping - and one bad dream conjured up another, running from box to box to release its fellows. The world around him seemed to have become equally mad and hateful. The newspapers were full of stories of grotesque violence and unnatural crimes. He knew neither how to go on nor what to do to bring these horrors to an end. ~ Iris Murdoch

Have you ever truly, keenly felt like you don't know who you are? Do you ever do something and think, Who is at the controls? Like some mad pilot has locked you out of the cockpit? I definitely do. I feel a kind of vertigo that makes me shake afterwards. I guess we all feel it when making a difficult-seeming choice, and sometimes you seriously don't know what you want because you don't know who you're supposed to be, or who you want to be. Physics, my first and second families, my philosophy degree, had all failed to help me answer that question. The former has led me to wonder whether I am one of an infinite number of Alices in multiple universes. A quantum fuck-up, which is someone who fucks up in every one of those universes but in different ways. ~ Olivia Sudjic

'Mad About You' fit my sensibility the most of any show that I worked on, and as a result, it was really fun. It felt like a very natural fit. ~ Maria Semple

The winter drove them mad. It drove every man mad who had ever lived through it; there was only ever the question of degree. The sun disappeared, and you could not leave the tunnels, and everything and everyone you loved was ten thousand miles away. At best, a man suffered from strange lapses in judgment and perception, finding himself at the mirror about to comb his hair with a mechanical pencil, stepping into his undershirt, boiling up a pot of concentrated orange juice for tea. Most men felt a sudden blaze of recovery in their hearts at the first glimpse of a pale hem of sunlight on the horizon in mid-September. But there were stories, apocryphal, perhaps, but far from dubious, of men in past expeditions who sank so deeply into the drift of their own melancholy that they were lost forever. And few among the wives and families of the men who returned from a winter on the Ice would have said what they got back was identical to what they had sent down there. ~ Michael Chabon

I avowed that I was not mad at God. In fact, I felt God's presence at that time more than I ever had. I was never angry, and that didn't make sense to many people. But I knew that God didn't do this. We as humans have free choice, and when people make bad choices, other humans suffer. It doesn't make sense, and we can ask why God didn't fix it or change it. The fact is we do not have the mind of God; as smart as we think we are, we know nothing in terms of what God knows. ~ Abby Rike

I thought your boyfriend died?" Nicky asked, and it was actually a good question, and I was so
mad that I wasn't even embarrassed to answer him.
"We were three," I choked out. "I had a night lover and a day lover," I said, and it felt like
poetry, just to say it there in public in the middle of the quad, under the foggy sun. "And they loved
each other like night loves the day. And then the night lover died, and the day lover and I were naked in
the sunshine, with only ourselves for cover. ~ Amy Lane

Carroting, you must understand, was a process by which animal fur is bathed in a solution of mercury nitrate, in order to render the hairs more supple, thus producing a superior felt." At this last word, he threw a significant glance in my direction. "Felt," I repeated. "You mean, for the making of hats?" "Precisely. The solution is of an orange colour, hence the term carroting. However, this process had rather severe side effects on those who worked with it, which is why its use today is much reduced. When mercury vapours are inhaled over a long enough period of time - particularly, for our purposes, in the close quarters of a hat-making operation - toxic and irreversible effects almost inevitably follow. One develops tremors of the hands; blackened teeth; slurred speech. In severe cases, dementia or outright insanity can occur. Hence the term mad as a hatter. ~ Douglas Preston

He never made fun of her as her neighbors did. That was why she visited him. He felt in this mad, ugly woman five years his senior a comrade in apartness. He liked people who refused to recognize the world. ~ Yukio Mishima

So I got into the bed with him. I held his hand even though it felt limp. Maybe I should have been mad at him for getting behind the wheel of a car when he'd been drinking. But I couldn't ever get very mad at Harry. I knew he was always doing the very best he could with the pain he felt at any given moment. And this, however tragic, had been the best he could do. ~ Taylor Jenkins Reid

No artist can create without an inspiration; no man can work so without a muse. So it is with your prince. Everything I've ever done, every piece you've ever heard, every tune I've ever scribbled in the wee hours as a Mad Prince does, they are all because of one woman, who owns me heart and soul."
This was met with awwws and cries about the power of love.
Eric looked out at the crowd, but his eyes didn't find hers. It didn't matter. Ariel knew he was speaking to her, and she felt her eyes moisten. ~ Liz Braswell

I think it was less about the finished product for them and more about their faith. The reason they were building it." It may have been an offhand comment, but it made me think about the huge, ridiculous wedding I'd planned for myself, and how mad I'd been that it didn't come off. I should have been thinking more about the reason for the marriage, and less about the wedding. But I'd never felt the kind of devotion to him I should have, nor had strong faith in the relationship. Thank God we didn't get married. ~ Melanie Harlow

Women have been driven mad, "gaslighted," for centuries by the refutation of our experience and our instincts in a culture which validates only male experience. The truth of our bodies and our minds has been mystified to us. We therefore have a primary obligation to each other: not to undermine each others' sense of reality for the sake of expediency; not to gaslight each other.
Women have often felt insane when cleaving to the truth of our experience. Our future depends on the sanity of each of us, and we have a profound stake, beyond the personal, in the project of describing our reality as candidly and fully as we can to each other. ~ Adrienne Rich

She was one of those exceptional children who do still spend time outside, in solitude. In her case nature represented beauty - and refuge. "It's so peaceful out there and the air smells so good. I mean, it's polluted, but not as much as the city air. For me, it's completely different there," she said. "It's like you're free when you go out there. It's your own time. Sometimes I go there when I'm mad - and then, just with the peacefulness, I'm better. I can come back home happy, and my mom doesn't even know why."
The she described her special part of the woods.
"I had a place. There was a big waterfall and a creek on one side of it. I'd dug a big hole there, and sometimes I'd take a tent back there, or a blanket, and just lie down in the hole, and look up at the trees and sky. Sometimes I'd fall asleep back there. I just felt free; it was like my place, and I could do what I wanted, with nobody to stop me. I used to go down there almost every day."
The young poet's face flushed. Her voice thickened.
"And then they just cut the woods down. It was like they cut down part of me. ~ Richard Louv

It was her, something about her- whenever she did something that felt like a raw invitation, he simply went mad in his effort to take up the gauntlet. ~ Jacquelyn Frank

Coming up behind me, Jack touched my shoulders with his palms and let them coast down my upper arms, the warmth of his hands making the cool skin prickle pleasantly. He took one of my hands in his. Folding my icy fingers more tightly in his, Jack lowered his mouth to the vulnerable curve of my neck. There was a sensual promise in the way his lips grazed my skin. He continued to kiss me there, searching for the most acute place, and when he found it, I backed up against him reflexively.
"Jack . . . You're not still mad because Dane slept over, are you?"
His hand wandered along my front, charting every curve and plane, pausing at every flicker of response. My body caught a tense, pleasured arch.
Dimly I realized he was gathering information, softly winnowing out the pulses and twitches from all the places I was most vulnerable.
"Actually, Ella . . . every time I think about it, I want to bend a crowbar in half."
"But nothing happened," I protested.
"That's the only reason I haven't hunted him down and dropped him."
I couldn't tell how much of the macho bravado was for show, or how much Jack actually meant.
I strove for a reasonable, ironic tone, which was difficult as I felt his fingers slip beneath the edge of my neckline. "You're not going to take it out on me, are you?"
"Afraid so." His breath fractured as he discovered I wasn't wearing a bra. "Tonight you're in for it, blue eyes. ~ Lisa Kleypas

Our relationship wasn't easy. It wasn't mellow. It wasn't comfortable and sedate. He was too bossy and I was too much of a smartass. We bantered and sometimes we fought. But I'd learned I was completely unable to endure Hawk being mad at me and then I'd noticed that Hawk felt the same. No grudges were ever held. We created sparks but those sparks never caught the kind of fire that could do damage. Instead, we got over it and moved on. ~ Kristen Ashley

And then he heard Mad-Eye Moody's voice, echoing in some distant chamber of his empty brain: Jump onto the desk ... jump onto the desk ...
Harry bent his knees obediently, preparing to spring.
Jump onto the desk ...
Why, though? Another voice had awoken in the back of his brain.
Stupid thing to do, really, said the voice.
Jump onto the desk ...
No, I don't think I will, thanks, said the other voice, a little more firmly ... no, I don't really want to ...
Jump! NOW!
The next thing Harry felt was considerable pain. He had both jumped and tried to prevent himself from jumping - the result was that he'd smashed headlong into the desk, knocking it over, and, by the feeling in his legs, fractured both his kneecaps. ~ J.K. Rowling

Pulling back, he gave her a little space and grinned as she found her balance again.
"Do you think that will ever get old?" Harper asked with an embarrassed blush.
"Christ, I hope not. Just remember how you feel right now because you might be really mad at me in about one minute."
"Uh-oh. I don't think I like the sound of that." Harper raised an eyebrow at him.
He took her hand and led her toward the studio before pulling her in front of him, her back to his chest. It was the safest position to avoid a kick in the nuts and the best position to block a fast escape.
He felt Harper's quick intake of breath as she turned to face him with a hand over her mouth.
"What did you do?" she said through her fingers.
"Happy birthday, sweetheart." He pushed her through the door as everyone inside shouted, "Surprise! ~ Scarlett Cole

Remembering your mistakes more acutely than any minor success. This was the worst. The things that kept you up at night. Tip a waiter that was too small. The words that didn't fit the moment. Words that didn't come till to late. You could kill yourself in increments, punishing your spirit day after day-regret. Guilt. Not the guilt of the little girl who woke in the night embarrassed God was mad at her because she had ticked balls under her shirt, pretending to have breasts. "I even felt sexy." That was sweet, and pure, no crime at all. But the crime of obsessive replay-get rid of it, get rid of it. Who could ever have known that hardest punishments would be the ones you gave yourself? ~ Naomi Shihab Nye

On Halloween, Wendell, Floyd, and Mona were walking home from school when a black cat crossed their path.
"Don't pet it, Floyd!" cried Wendell. "Don't you know that black cats are bad luck?"
"That's just an old wives' tale," Mona said. "Besides, what could happen?"
Wendell merely shook his head. "Anything can happen on Halloween."
In fact, something did happen as soon as they got home. First, Wendell discovered that his mad scientist costume had turned pink in the wash.
This is definitely a bad sign, he thought.
Then Floyd found out that he had to take his sister, Alice, trick-or-treating with him. "Pirates don't have little sisters," he complained.
Worst of all, Mona's mother insisted that she go out dressed as a fairy princess. "I look ridiculous," Mona protested.
"Nonsense," said her mother, and handed her a magic wand.
They all felt gloomy that evening as they set out trick-or-treating and hoped that no one they knew would see them. ~ Mark Teague