The line between genius and lunacy, and the people who lived on it.

Issued one pencil a week, he spent thirty-five years balancing the ledgers of a universe he'd crowned himself emperor of.

In 1841 a celebrated English poet walked out of his asylum and covered eighty miles in four days, eating grass and his own pipe tobacco, to reach a childhood sweetheart he was certain was waiting for him.

What kind of man commissions an altarpiece of himself praying, then hangs it in the room where he prays?

What happens when a man in a cardboard lobster suit accidentally starts chanting Catholic mass?

What kind of person gets caught deserting during a famine, weeps, is pardoned, and then gets promoted to diplomat?

Every night for years, Hans Christian Andersen left a note on his bedside table that read: "I only appear to be dead."

A man who had invented 2,472 people died asking one of them to save him.

He inherited 132,000 acres at age two and died in a debtors' prison at thirty-seven, and those are not the strange parts.

Nikola Tesla loved a pigeon as a man loves a woman. When she died, he said his life's work was finished.

Joshua Norton declared himself Emperor, and San Francisco largely agreed.