Legion

My name is Stephen Leeds, and I am perfectly sane. My hallucinations, however, are all quite mad.

You should know by now that I've already had greatness. I traded it for mediocrity and some measure of sanity.

I’m not going more mad,” I said. “I’ve stabilized. I’m practically normal. Even my non-hallucinatory psychiatrist acknowledges that.

Sometimes it is very useful to have a reputation for being a reclusive, amoral jerk.

You aren't insane, then." "Heavens no," I said. I eyed her. "You don't accept that." You see people that aren't there Mr. Leeds. It's a difficult fact to get around. "And, yet, I live a good life," I said. "Tell me. Why would you consider me insane, but the man who can't hold a job, who cheats on his wife, who can't keep his temper in check, you call him sane?

Tell me. Why would you consider me insane, but the man who can't hold a job, who cheats on his wife, who can't keep his temper in check? You call him sane? ... Plenty of sane people can't manage to keep it all under control. Their mental state--stress, anxiety, frustration--gets in the way of their ability to be happy. Compared to them, I think I'm downright stable.

At the heart of science is accepting only that truth which can be proven. At the heart of faith is define Truth, at its core, as being unprovable.

You keep walking through the middle of J.C.,” I said. “It’s very disturbing for him; he hates being reminded he’s a hallucination.” “I’m not a hallucination,” J.C. snapped. “I have state-of-the-art stealthing equipment.

I’m not a hallucination,” J.C. snapped. “I have state-of-the-art stealthing equipment.

Tobias took the photograph. At least, that's what I saw. Most likely I still had the photograph in my hand, but I couldn't feel it there, now I perceived Tobias holding it. It's strange, the way the mind can change perception.

Wilson nodded, off to do as requested. He was a good butler. Without him, I think I’d go insane.

Tobias took the photograph. At least, that’s what I saw. Most likely I still had the photo in my hand, but I couldn’t feel it there, now that I perceived Tobias holding it. It’s strange, the way the mind can change perception.

Time travel into the past is highly, highly implausible,” I said. “Even if it were to have occurred, I’d not know of it, as it would have created a branching path of reality of which I am not a part.

Honestly, I don't know that the universe yould really handle everyone being infinite Batmans. Perhaps the point of God was to prevent nonsense like that.

Who cares? Yes, it’s all in my head. But pain is ‘all in my head’ too. Love is ‘all in my head.’ All the things that matter in life are the things you can’t measure! The things our brains make up! Being made-up doesn’t make them unimportant.

Never do anything standing that you can do sitting, or anything sitting that you can do lying down.

And which would you rather live in? The fake prison where you think you are free, or the real prison where you spend each day in drudgery?

I'm not crazy, I'm compratmentalized.

Always tell your captives they have more time than they do; it makes them relax, sets them to planning, instead of trying to break out immediately. The last thing you want to do is make them desperate, since desperate people are unpredictable.

Even a man trying to save the world had to eat.

Plenty of ‘sane’ people can’t manage to keep it all under control. Their mental state—stress, anxiety, frustration—gets in the way of their ability to be happy. Compared to them, I think I’m downright stable. Though I do admit, it would be nice to be left alone. I don’t want to be anyone special.

The formal definition of insanity is actually quite fluid. Two people can have the exact same condition, with the exact same severity, but one can be considered sane by the official standards while the other is considered insane. You cross the line into insanity when your mental state stops you from being able to function, from being able to have a normal life. By those standards, I’m not the least bit insane.

I ignored her complaint and - as flashes of light behind us lit the fairgrounds a shimmering red-orange - I strode right up to the man at the hot dog cart, placed Sandra's phone on the counter, and looked him right in the eyes. "I'm tired," I told him. "And I feel old." The man stood up straight, eyes going wide. He had his hair in a buzz cut, and was lean and muscular. J.C. could have told me whether he was packing, but even I noticed how poor a fit he was for his hot-dog vendor role. "Sir," he said, "I'm not certain if a hot dog can help.

Well, yeah, obviously. But that’s not it. I hate coincidences. Life is much simpler when you can just assume that everyone is trying to kill you.

This isn't your prison. This is mine.

Preface Psychology-as-superpower is a recurring theme in my works. I’ve always believed that the personality traits that make us each distinctive (the way we process information, the way we motivate ourselves, the way we shelter our psyche from the bad while learning to cherish the good) can be either our greatest strengths or our most dramatic limitations. How you see yourself, along with how you use what you have, is often more important than talents, skills, or even supernatural abilities. That said, no series I’ve written has explored this idea more explicitly than the Legion stories.