If we are all insane, then sanity becomes a matter of degree. If your insanity leads
you to carve up women like Jack the Ripper or the Cleveland Torso Murderer, we clap
you away in the funny farm (but neither of those two amateur-night surgeons was ever
caught, heh-heh-heh); if, on the other hand, your insanity leads you only to talk to
yourself when you’re under stress or to pick your nose on your morning bus, then you
are left alone to go about your business . . . though it is doubtful that you will ever be
invited to the best parties.