Then, brothers, it came. Oh, bliss, bliss and heaven. I lay all nagoy to the ceiling, my gulliver on my rookers on the pillow, glazzies closed, rot open in bliss, slooshying the sluice of lovely sounds. Oh, it was gorgeousness and gorgeosity made flesh.

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?

Come with uncle and hear all proper. Hear angel trumpets and devil trombones...you are invited!

You don't say, 'I've done it!' You come, with a kind of horrible desperation, to realize that this will do.

Every dogma has its day.

Senseless violence is a prerogative of youth, which has much energy but little talent for the constructive.

Life's only choosing when to die. Life's a big postponement because the choice is so difficult. It's a tremendous relief not to have to choose.