Philip K. Dick

Crazy people do not apply the principle of scientific parsimony... they shoot for the baroque.

Certainly it constitutes bad news if the people who agree with you are buggier than batshit.

Madness has its own dynamism. It just goes on.

Madness, like small fish, runs in hosts, in vast numbers of instances.

It was evident to Elias Tate that this was the government. First they shake hands with you, he thought, and then they murder you.

God is either powerless, stupid or he doesn't give a shit.

The unconscious is selective, when it learns what to listen for.

It is sometimes an appropriate response to reality to go insane.

Where there's dope, there's hope!

They wanted to have a good time, but they were like children playing in the street; they could see one after another of them being killed—run over, maimed, destroyed—but they continued to play anyhow.

What does a scanner see? he asked himself. I mean, really see? Into the head? Down into the heart? Does a passive infrared scanner like they used to use or a cube-type holo-scanner like they use these days, the latest thing, see into me—into us—clearly or darkly? I hope it does, he thought, see clearly, because I can't any longer these days see into myself. I see only murk. Murk outside; murk inside. I hope, for everyone's sake, the scanners do better. Because, he thought, if the scanner sees only darkly, the way I myself do, then we are cursed, cursed again and like we have been continually, and we'll wind up dead this way, knowing very little and getting that little fragment wrong too.

Drug misuse is not a disease, it is a decision, like the decision to step out in front of a moving car. You would call that not a disease but an error in judgement. When a bunch of people begin to do it, it is a social error, a life-style. In this particular life-style the motto is “Be happy now because tomorrow you are dying,” but the dying begins almost at once, and the happiness is a memory.