:3

“Crazy loves company, Sir Clay.”
― Marissa Meyer, Winter

“Anything else?” asked Matthias.
“I like singing,” said Alys.
Wylan shook his head frantically, mouthing, No, no, no.
“Shall I sing?” Alys asked hopefully. “Bajan says that I’m good enough to be on the stage.”
“Maybe we save that for later—” suggested Jesper.
Alys’ lower lip began to wobble like a plate about to break.
“Sing,” Matthias blurted, “by all means, sing.”
And then the real nightmare began.
It wasn’t that Alys was so bad, she just never stopped. She sang between bites of food. She sang while she was walking through the graves. She sang from behind a bush when she needed to relieve herself. When she finally dozed off, she hummed in her sleep.
“Maybe this was Van Eck’s plan all along,” Kaz said glumly when they’d assembled outside the tomb again.
“To drive us mad?” said Nina. “It’s working.”
Jesper shut his eyes and groaned. “Diabolical.”
― Leigh Bardugo, Crooked Kingdom

“Free the fire fluttering inside her rib cage. Work her muscles, the bow, the violin, until she played herself to ash and embers and left the rest of the world behind to smolder.”
― Alexandra Bracken, Passenger

“Um, because you're loopier than Flacky McPsycho, Mayor of Crazytown?"

"My databases show no record of this Crazytown of which you speak. A brain the size of an entire city burns inside me. My intelligence quotient is beyond the human scale. I would prefer if you did not refer to me in such a fashion."

"Oh, poor baby. Did I hurt the mass-murdering psychopathic artificial intelligence's feelings?”
― Amie Kaufman, Illuminae