“We are lunatics from the hospital up the highway, psycho-ceramics, the cracked pots of mankind. Would you like me to decipher a Rorschach for you? No? You must burry on? Ah, he’s gone. Pity.” He turned to McMurphy. “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? Food for thought there.”
“And we’re all sitting there lined up in front of that blanked-out TV set, watching the gray screen just like we could see the baseball game clear as day, and she’s ranting and screaming behind us. If somebody’d of come in and took a look, men watching a blank TV, a fifty-year-old woman hollering and squealing at the back of their heads about discipline and order and recriminations, they’d of thought the whole bunch was crazy as loons.”
“The world will break your heart ten ways to Sunday, that’s guaranteed.
And I can’t begin to explain that- or the craziness inside myself and everybody else, but guess what? Sunday is my fav day again”
″‘Dicey?’
‘She loves us,’ Dicey muttered.
‘But that’s the only reason I can think of that might be true.’
‘There’s nothing wrong with Maybeth. You know that.‘”
“It runs in families. Hereditary craziness.