A tavern is a place where madness is sold by the bottle.

You beat your pate, and fancy wit will come; Knock as you please, there's nobody at home.

It is useless to attempt to reason a man out of a thing he was never reasoned into.

There was all the world and his wife.

Madness, like small fish, runs in hosts, in vast numbers of instances.

The world's become a little too mean.

Let us speak of our madness. We are always being called mad. If we are mad - we and our brothers in America who are walking hand in hand with us in the vanguar…