A Quote by Seneca the Younger

There has never been any great genius without a spice of madness. — © Seneca the Younger
There has never been any great genius without a spice of madness.
There is no great genius without a mixture of madness.
There is no great genius without some touch of madness.
There was never a genius without a tincture of madness.
No great genius has ever existed without some touch of madness.
There has not been any great talent without an element of madness. -Nullum magnum ingenium sine mixtura dementiae fuit
There is no genius without a mixture of madness.
There is no element of genius without some form of madness.
Every great genius has an admixture of madness.
I think the big danger of madness is not madness itself, but the habit of madness. What I discovered during the time I spent in the asylum is that I could choose madness and spend my whole life without working, doing nothing, pretending to be mad. It was a very strong temptation.
Either I'm a genius or I'm mad, which is it? "No," I said, "I can't be mad because nobody's put me away; therefore I'm a genius." Genius is a form of madness and we're all that way. But I used to be coy about it, like me guitar playing. But if there's such a thing as genius - I am one. And if there isn't, I don't care.
Universality is the distinguishing mark of genius. There is no such thing as a special genius, a genius for mathematics, or for music, or even for chess, but only a universal genius. The genius is a man who knows everything without having learned it.
Genius has never been accepted without a measure of condonement.
I do not despise genius-indeed, I wish I had a basketful of it. But yet, after a great deal of experience and observation, I have become convinced that industry is a better horse to ride than genius. It may never carry any man as far as genius has carried individuals, but industry-patient, steady, intelligent industry-will carry thousands into comfort, and even celebrity; and this it does with absolute certainty.
The genius which runs to madness is no longer genius.
The concept of genius as akin to madness has been carefully cultivated by the inferiority complex of the public.
The constitution of madness as a mental illness, at the end of the eighteenth century, affords the evidence of a broken dialogue, posits the separation as already effected, and thrusts into oblivion all those stammered, imperfect words without fixed syntax in which the exchange between madness and reason was made. The language of psychiatry, which is a monologue of reason about madness, has been established only on the basis of such a silence.
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