Look at this poet William Carlos Williams: he is primitive and native, and his roots are in raw forest and violent places; he is word-sick and place-crazy. He admires strength, but for what? Violence! This is the cult of the frontier mind.
(Edward Dahlberg (1900-1977), U.S. author, critic. "Word-Sick And Place-Crazy," Alms for Oblivion (1964).)
Where did we ever get the crazy idea that in order to make children do better, first we have to make them feel worse? Think of the last time you felt humiliated or treated unfairly. Did you feel like cooperating or doing better?
(Jane Nelson (20th century), U.S. marriage, family, and child therapist. Positive Discipline, ch. 1 (1981).)
I keep picturing all these little kids playing some game in this big field of rye and all.... If they're running and they don't look where they're going I have to come out from somewhere and catch them. That's all I'd do all day. I'd just be the catcher in the rye and all. I know it's crazy.
(J.D. (Jerome David) Salinger (b. 1919), U.S. author. The narrator (Holden Caulfield), in The Catcher in the Rye, ch. 22 (1951).)
There are three times in a man's life when he has the right to yell at the moonwhen he marries; when his children come; and when he finishes a job he had to be crazy to start.
(Borden Chase [Frank Fowler] (1900-1971), U.S. screenwriter, Charles Schnee, screenwriter, and Howard Hawks. Melville (Harry Carey, Sr.), Red River, after Matthew Garth (Montgomery Clift) and his men bring their herd to market (1948).)
I think the reason we're so crazy sexually in America is that all our responses are acting. We don't know how to feel. We know how it looked in the movies.
(Jill Robinson (b. 1936), U.S. novelist. As quoted in American Dreams, part 1, by Studs Terkel (1980).
The daughter of movie producer Dore Schary, Robinson had grown up rich in Hollywood; her notions of the world were shaped by the movies in which she was immersed.)
The wisest among us is very lucky never to have met the woman, be she beautiful or ugly, intelligent or stupid, who could drive him crazy enough to be fit to be put into an asylum.
(Denis Diderot (1713-1784), French philosopher, encyclopedist, dramatist, novelist, art critic. Narrator, in This Is No Tale (Ceci n'est pas un conte) (1796), p. 133, Paris, Garnier Flammarion (1977).)