"You want perfect lives, you never want to be alone,
but sometimes life gets so lonely that you turn to people unknown.
Desperate for affection, you accept what is shown,
falling into a pattern, you follow the norms
and become quantity, mass-produced clones"
Men have called me mad; but the question is not yet settled, whether madness is or is not the loftiest intelligence, whether much that is glorious, whether all that is profound, does not spring from disease of thought, from moods of mind exalted at the expense of the general...
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