Looking at peaches and a man who fried his brain on chemicals obtained from natural sources, which basically applies to any man who isn't married, or we must contemplate shapes in the abstract, which a modern wife won't allow, which means we appear to be less intelligent than men of former times, which modern women take advantage of to the degree of suggesting their brothers aught to be institutionalized, we have to play tit for tat.
The consideration of the teaching of maths without adhering to the truth, yet insisting that a means of determining sanity exists, is possibly why insanity seemed attractive.
Thinking of divorce and that which may lead us to the measure, I come rather to think about good friends who thought that between them they had magic, but the one decided to be a Royal Prick and become a mathematician, which stopped all hopes of that happening again.
The contemplation of vectors can leave us beside ourselves. As can the contemplation of a magical group of friends that it turns out included a frog.
I started out happy to call myself insane. I left the word happiness behind me when a variable, within the set of living things, accepted sensible communication protocols, didn't suggest I aught to be less irreverant about insanity, but did suggest I follow a better example.