They don't have feelings, they don't have emotions, they're amoral, they have no moral sense. I felt that psycho-paths are a kind of void. They get very good at mimicking and they observe other people and they're intuitively, brilliantly manipulative. But there's nothing there, y'know, and that was difficult from a novelist's point of view. On stage, on the other side of that curtain, the laws of nature change.
People see with madman's eyes.
For true madness has this gift, and this potency, that it makes its own complete world. Others can enter it. The sweeping windows of the Park Royal reveal the sweltering heat outside, a hazy atmosphere that blurs the weary passers-by. And as the noon-tide sky fades, the pianist hushes and then disappears. Turner Hospital eases back into her chair.