You ask me how I became a madman. It happened thus:
One day, long before many gods were born, I woke from
a deep sleep and found all my masks were
stolen -- the seven masks I have fashioned and
worn in seven lives -- I ran maskless through the
crowded streets shouting, "Thieves, thieves, the
cursed thieves."
Men and women laughed at me and some ran to their
houses in fear of me.
And when I reached the market place, a youth standing
on a house-top cried, "He is a madman." I looked
up to behold him; the sun kissed my own naked face
for the first time. For the first time the sun
kissed my own naked face and my soul was inflamed with
love for the sun, and I wanted my masks no
more. And as if in a trance I cried, "Blessed,
blessed are the thieves who stole my masks."
Thus I became a madman.
And I have found both freedom and safety in my
madness; the freedom of loneliness and the safety from
being understood, for those who understand us
enslave something in us.
But let me not be too proud of my safety. Even a Thief
in a jail is safe from another thief.