I once knew a madman who thought the end of the world had come. He was a painter—and engraver. I had a great fondness for him. I used to go and see him, in the asylum. I'd take him by the hand drag him to the window. Look! There! All that rising corn! And there! Look! The sails of the herring fleet! All that loveliness!
He'd snatch away his hand and go back to his corner. Appalled. All he had seen was ashes.
He alone had been spared.
It appears the case is…was not so…so unusual. (1.467)
Use your head, can't you, use your head, you're on earth, there's no cure for that! (1.537)
I love order. It's my dream. A world where all would be silent and still and each thing in its last place, under the last dust. (1.569)