No, and by analysing yourself,
you'll see that.

Would you care to go back
to your room, Mr. Garmes?

We better put him on drugs
for a few days, he looks agitated.

His conviction is curious.
But you've encountered such cases
very often...

you described them perfectly
in your book.

Yes, so I did.
-Would you mind doing me a favour?
-Not at all, Doctor.

I've a headache. I'd like to take
the afternoon off, with you.

I understand you're not on duty
till after dinner.

-I intended typing up...
-I need some fresh air...

and you look like
it might do you good.

I was going to lunch with Dr. Hamish.
He has a new patient, a cleptomaniac.

Cleptomaniacs for lunch, they'll
steal the food out of your mouth.

Excuse me.
Yes, Dr. Edwardes.
What? Yes, Anthony Edwardes.
Who? Sorry,
I don't get your name.

Norma Cramer?
Please, Miss Cramer, I'm very
busy and I don't know you.

Some girl, claiming to be...
I hate practical jokes, don't you?
"People calling up
and chirping, ""Guess who I am?"""

Sounds like an ex-patient.
They're always full of coy tricks.

Very likely.
Come on, let's go.

We'll look at some sane trees, normal
grass and clouds without complexes.

I think the greatest harm done to
the human race was done by poets.

Poets are dull, most of them,
but not especially fiendish.

They keep filling peoples's heads
with delusions about love...

writing as if it were a symphony
orchestra, or a flight of angels.

-Which it isn't?
-Of course not...