Sanity is not truth. Sanity is conformity to what is socially expected. Truth is sometimes in conformity, sometimes not.

Sanity itself is a kind of convention.

EACH PERSON MUST, ON SOME LEVEL, TAKE HIMSELF AS THE CALIBRATION point for normalcy, must assume that the room of his own mind is not, cannot be, entirely opaque to him. Perhaps this is what we mean by sanity: that, whatever our self-admitted eccentricities might be, we are not the villains of our own stories. In fact, it is quite the contrary: we play, and only play, the hero, and in the swirl of other people's stories, insofar as those stories concern us at all, we are never less than heroic.

Sanity is viewed as a matter of getting these fluid portions of the self to play well together, without letting them become rigid or too well defined. In human beings, this is best achieved through interaction with other minds — other people — beyond the self. Without the push-back of external beings — outside communities and objective events — the subjective self can get lost in solipsism or fractured delusion.

Sanity is, in essence, nothing more than the ability to live in harmony with nature's laws.

salvation and sanity consist in the most radical recognition that we have no way of saving ourselves.

The distinction between sanity and insanity is narrower than a razor’s edge, sharper than a hound’s tooth, more agile than a mule deer. It is more elusive than the merest phantom. Perhaps it does not even exist; perhaps it is a phantom.

Sanity is a madness put to good uses.

Sanity is not statistical.

Insanity is relative. It depends on who has who locked in what cage.

It had always been a notion of mine that sanity is like a clearing in the jungle where the humans agree to meet from time to time and behave in certain fixed ways that even a baboon could master, like Englishmen dressing for dinner in the tropics.

O SANITY

It’s only sane to be insane
Psychotic builds a castle
And neurotic lives in it
I don’t know what to do with my sanity
When the world’s at the verge of calamity
O’ sanity, o’ sanity
What am I to do with you
Drink up, shoot up, anything you please
But you’re always standing behind me
Like a devil in hell
O’ sanity, sanity
Why don’t you let me go?
Let go, let go!
Cut it out!

The distinction between sanity and insanity is narrower than the razor's edge, sharper than a hound's tooth, more agile than a mule deer. It is more elusive than the merest phantom. Perhaps it does not even exist; perhaps it is a phantom.

Sanity is a valuable possession.