The so-called psychiatric specialists gave my friend's illness first this name and then that, without having the courage to admit that there was no correct name for this disease, or indeed for any other, but only incorrect and misleading names.

Like all doctors, they made life easy for themselves - and in the end murderously easy - by continually giving incorrect names to diseases.

From the very start of their treatment, which is known to employ the most inhuman, murderous, and deadly methods, Latin is set up as an invisible but uniquely impenetrable wall between themselves and their victims.

Of all medical practitioners, psychiatrists are the most incompetent, having a closer affinity to the sex killer than to their science.

All my life I have dreaded nothing so much as falling into the hands of psychiatrists, beside whom all other doctors, disastrous though they may be, are far less dangerous.

Psychiatrists are the real demons of our age, going about their business with impunity and constrained by neither law nor conscience.

I woke up in a hospital bed ... almost totally destroyed through overrating myself and the world.

I had again and again worked myself up to an extreme pitch of rebellion against myself and the world around me and had to be taken into a lung clinic.

He was educated by madmen for long periods of his life, I by lung patients; he developed in the company of madmen, I in the company of lung patients.

He was taken over by his madness, whereas I have always exploited mine.

I have my lung disease as well as my madness. I have exploited both, and one day I suddenly made them the mainspring of my existence.

Paul's mind quite simply exploded because he could not discard his intellectual fortune fast enough.

Let us not deceive ourselves: most of the minds we associate with are housed in heads that have little more to offer than overgrown potatoes, stuck on top of whining and tastelessly clad bodies and eking out a pathetic existence that does not even merit our pity.

I was on good terms with the doctors as long as I had money, but when you run out of money they treat you like a pig, he often said.

The sick do not understand the healthy and the healthy do not understand the sick. This conflict often proves fatal.

A sick person needs the most unobtrusive help, the kind of help the healthy cannot give.

Most of the time the sick are not helped, but merely vexed, by their helpers.

A sick person who returns home always feels like an intruder in an area where he no longer has any business to be.

I hate nature, because it's killing me.

It is only with reluctance that I live in the country, which on the whole I find hostile.