Blessed tree and blessed birds, that were to be neither saved nor damned.

It had been a wonderful evening and what I needed now, to give it the perfect ending, was a little of the Ludwig Van.

Where do I come into all of this? Am I just some animal or dog?' And that started them off govoreeting real loud and throwing slovos at me. So I creeched louder still, creeching: 'Am I just to be like a clockwork orange?

The possession of a book becomes a substitute for reading it.

Women thrive on novelty and are easy meat for the commerce of fashion. Men prefer old pipes and torn jackets.

It'll be your own torture," he said, serious. "I hope to God it'll torture you to madness.

... A CLOCKWORK ORANGE- and I said: 'That's a fair gloopy title. Who ever heard of a clockwork orange?' Then I read a malenky bit out loud in a sort of very high type preaching goloss: '- The attempt to impose upon a man, a creature of growth and capable of sweetness, to ooze juicily at the last round the bearded lips of God, to attempt to impose, I say, laws and conditions appropriate to a mechanical creation, against this I raise my swordpen-