In a sense, we all are crashing to our death from the top story of our birth to the flat stones of the churchyard and wondering with an immortal Alice in Wonderland at the patterns of the passing wall. This capacity to wonder at these asides of the spirit – no matter the imminent peril –, these trifles in the volume of life are the highest forms of consciousness, and it is in this childishly speculative state of mind that we know the world to be good, but that it is being junked by man’s commonsense and its logic.
Commonsense has trampled down many a gentle genius whose eyes had delighted in a too early moonbeam of some truth; commonsense has back-kicked dirt at the loveliest of queer paintings; commonsense has prompted ugly but strong nations to crush their fair but frail neighbors the moment a gap in history offered a chance. Commonsense it fundamentally immoral, for the true morals of humankind are irrational to it. Commonsense at its worst is sense made common, and so everything is comfortably cheapened by its touch.
There is not a single person who, at some point would not be put to death by a commonsensical majority in righteous rage. Something about a person, such as eyes, manners, thoughts or speech, is sure to meet with a fatal objection from a mob that hates that particular tone. And the more brilliant, the more unusual the person, the nearer s/he is to the stake. STRANGER always rhymes with DANGER. The visionary thinker, the indignant artist, the nonconforming student, all share in the same sacred danger. And this being so, let us bless them, let us bless the freak; for otherwise the ape would perhaps never have become a human being had not a freak appeared in the family. Anybody whose mind is proud enough not to breed true, secretly carries a bomb at the back of his brain; and so I suggest taking that bomb and carefully dropping it upon the model city of commonsense.
--- As per V. Nabokov