And do remember that a gramme is better than a damn.
And do remember that a gramme is better than a damn.
I want to know what passion is. I want to feel something strongly.
Slowly, very slowly, like two unhurried compass needles, the feet turned towards the right; north, north-east, east, south-east, south, south-south-west; then paused, and after a few seconds, turned as unhurriedly back towards the left. South-south-west, south, south-east, east...
You've got to choose between happiness and what people used to call high art.
And the present sheared asunder from the past, like an iceberg sheared off from its frozen parent cliffs, and went sailing out to sea in lonely pride. All the past ages had accomplished was as nothing.
If ever I hear again of any lapse from a proper standard of infantile decorum, I shall ask for your transference to a Sub-Centre-preferably to Iceland. Good morning.
The fitchew nor the soiled horse goes to't with a more riotous appetite.
You can only be independent of God while you've got youth and prosperity; independence won't take you safely to the end.
As if one believed anything by instinct! One believes things because one has been conditioned to believe them. Finding bad reasons for what one believes for other bad reasons-that's philosophy. People believe in God because they've been conditioned to believe in God.
If one's different, one's bound to be lonely.
The gods are just. No doubt. But their code of law is dictated, in the last resort, by the people who organize society; Providence takes its cue from men.
Back to culture. Yes, actually to culture. You can't consume much if you sit still and read books.
Impulse arrested spills over, and the flood is feeling, the flood is passion, the flood is even madness: it depends on the force of the current, the height and strength of the barrier. The unchecked stream flows smoothly down its appointed channels into a calm well being.
The more stitches, the less riches.
Because it is idiotic. Writing when there's nothing to say...
In a word, they failed to take into account man's almost infinite appetite for distractions.
The optimum population is modeled on the iceberg- eight-ninths below the water line, one-ninth above.
But as time goes on, they, as all men, will find that independence was not made for man- that it is an unnatural state- will do for a while, but will not carry us on safely to the end
Ironically enough, the only people who can hold up indefinitely under the stress of modern war are psychotics. Individual insanity is immune to the consequences of collective insanity.
Those who feel themselves despised do well to look despising.
But every one belongs to every one else
It is natural to believe in God when you're alone-- quite alone, in the night, thinking about death.
Those who meant well behaved in the same way as those who meant badly.
A love of nature keeps no factories busy.
But I don't want comfort. I want God, I want poetry, I want real danger, I want freedom, I want goodness. I want sin.
It isn't only art that is incompatible with happiness, it's also science. Science is dangerous, we have to keep it most carefully chained and muzzled.
To be excited is still to be unsatisfied.
A man can smile and smile and be a villain.
But that's the price we have to pay for stability. You've got to choose between happiness and what people used to call high art. We've sacrificed the high art.
Never put off till tomorrow the fun you can have today.
Universal happiness keeps the wheels steadily turning, truth and beauty can't.
A physical shortcoming could produce a kind of mental excess. The process, it seemed, was reversible. Mental excess could produce, for its own purposes, the voluntary blindness and deafness of deliberate solitude, the artificial impotence of asceticism.
Can you say something about nothing?
No social stability without individual stability.
We are not our own any more than what we possess is our own. We did not make ourselves, we cannot be supreme over ourselves. We are not our own masters.
A really efficient totalitarian state would be one in which the all-powerful executive of political bosses and their army of managers control a population of slaves who do not have to be coerced, because they love their servitude.
Ending is better than mending.
One believes things because one has been conditioned to believe them.
We don't want to change. Every change is a menace to stability.
Actual happiness always looks pretty squalid in comparison with the overcompensations for misery. And, of course, stability isn't nearly so spectacular as instability. And being contented has none of the glamour of a good fight against misfortune, none of the picturesqueness of a struggle with temptation, or a fatal overthrow by passion or doubt. Happiness is never grand.
God in the safe and Ford on the shelves.
One can't have something for nothing. Happiness has got to be paid for. You're paying for it, Mr. Watson - paying because you happen to be too much interested in beauty.
What's the point of truth or beauty or knowledge when anthrax bombs are popping all around you?
All crosses had their tops cut and became T's. There was also a thing called God.
Happiness has got to be paid for. You're paying for it, Mr. Watson-paying because you happen to be too much interested in beauty. I was too much interested in truth; I paid too.
One cubic centimetre cures ten gloomy sentiments.
When people are suspicious with you, you start being suspicious with them.
All our science is just a cookery book, with an orthodox theory of cooking that nobody's allowed to question, and a list of recipes that mustn't be added to except by special permission from the head cook.
Her cheeks were flushed. She caught hold of the Savage's arm and pressed it, limp, against her side. He looked down at her for a moment, pale, pained, desiring, and ashamed of his desire. He was not worthy, not... Their eyes for a moment met. What treasures hers promised! A queen's ransom of temperament. Hastily he looked away, disengaged his imprisoned arm. He was obscurely terrified lest she should cease to be something he could feel himself unworthy of.
One egg, one embryo, one adult - normality. But a bokanovskified egg will bud, will proliferate, will divide. From eight to ninety-six buds, and every bud will grow into a perfectly formed embryo, and every embryo into a full-sized adult. Making ninety-six human beings grow where one grew before. Progress.
© 2020 Inspirational Stories
© 2020 Inspirational Stories