I am interested in madness. I believe it is the biggest thing in the human race, and the most constant. How do you take away from a man his madness without also taking away his identity? Are we sure it is desirable for a man's spirit not to be at war with itself, or that it is better to be serene and ready to go to dinner than to be excited and unwilling to stop for a cup of coffee, even?
Interpretation
This quote reflects on the relationship between madness and identity, questioning the value of inner conflict versus serenity.
William Saroyan's quote explores the idea that madness, or the turbulent emotions and thoughts within us, significantly shape our identities. He prompts the reader to reconsider whether a peaceful and undisturbed existence is truly desirable over a life filled with passion and conflict, suggesting that our struggles may be essential to who we are as individuals.
In practice
This quote is perfect for a discussion on mental health and the complexities of human identity.
The purpose of writing is both to keep up with life and to run ahead of it. I am little comfort to myself, although I am the only comfort I have, excepting perhaps streets, clouds, the sun, the faces and voices of kids and the aged, and similar accidents of beauty, innocence, truth and loneliness.
San Francisco itself is art, above all literary art. Every block is a short story, every hill a novel. Every home a poem, every dweller within immortal. That is the whole truth.
I care so much about everything that I care about nothing.
Seek goodness everywhere, and when it is found, bring it out of its hiding place and let it be free and unashamed.
It is a pity, in my opinion, that no prize exists for the writer who best refrains from adding to the world's bad books.
Try to be alive. You will be dead soon enough.
Many people despise those who spend their health, strength and money for the salvation of others, and call them mad. And yet it is they who will save many and be saved themselves.
We have no need of other worlds. We need mirrors. We don't know what to do with other worlds. A single world, our own, suffices us; but we can't accept it for what it is.
I like not fair terms and a villain's mind.
Jem gave a reasonable description of Boo: Boo was about six-and-a-half feet tall, judging from his tracks; he dined on raw squirrels and any cats he could catch, that's why his hands were bloodstained - if you ate animal raw, you could never wash the blood off. There was a long jagged scar that ran across his face; what teeth he had were yellow and rotten; his eyes popped, and he drooled most of the time.
I am an unwilling devil. I cry like some vagrant child. I want to go home.
Well, as everyone knows, once witchcraft gets started, there's no stopping it.
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