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.
Universal happiness keeps the wheels steadily turning, truth and beauty can't.
Alpha children wear grey. They work much harder than we do, because they're so frightfully clever. I'm awfully glad I'm a Beta, because I don't work so hard. And then we are much better than the Gammas and Deltas. Gammas are stupid. They all wear green, and Delta children wear khaki. Oh no, I don't want to play with Delta children. And Epsilons are still worse. They're too stupid to be able to read or write. Besides they wear black, which is such a beastly color. I'm so glad I'm a Beta.
Hug me till you drug me, honey; Kiss me till I'm in a coma.
But every one belongs to every one else
When the individual feels, the community reels.
Actual happiness always looks pretty squalid in comparison with the over-compensations for misery.
You can't make flivers without steel - and you can't make tragedies without social instability. The world's stable now. People are happy; they get what they want, and they never want what they can't get. They're well off; they're safe; they're never ill; they're not afraid of death; they're blissfully ignorant of passion and old age; they're plagued with no mothers or fathers; they've got no wives, or children, or lovers to feel strongly about; they're so conditioned that they pratically can't help behaving as they ought to behave.
No social stability without individual stability.
All conditioning aims at that: making people like their inescapable social destiny.
I'd rather be myself," he said. "Myself and nasty. Not somebody else, however jolly.
And there's always soma to calm your anger, to reconcile you to your enemies, to make you patient and long-suffering. In the past, you could only accomplish these things by making a great effort and after years of hard moral training. Now, you swallow two or three half-gramme tablets, and there you are. Anybody can be virtuous now. You can carry at least half your morality about in a bottle. Christianity without tears-that's what soma is.
And that," put in the Director sententiously, "that is the secret of happiness and virtue — liking what you've got to do. All conditioning aims at that: making people like their unescapable social destiny.
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 isn't compatible with machinery and scientific medicine and universal happiness. You must make your choice. Our civilization has chosen machinery and medicine and happiness.
"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.
All the advantages of Christianity and alcohol; none of their defects.
All right then," said the Savage defiantly, "I'm claiming the right to be unhappy.
What’s the point of truth or beauty or knowledge when anthrax bombs are popping all around you?
I love you more than anything in the world combined.
O, wonder! How many goodly creatures are there here! How beauteous mankind is! O brave new world, That has such people in't!
"All right then," said the savage defiantly, I'm claiming the right to be unhappy." "Not to mention the right to grow old and ugly and impotent; the right to have syphilis and cancer; the right to have too little to eat, the right to be lousy; the right to live in constant apprehension of what may happen tomorrow; the right to catch typhoid; the right to be tortured by unspeakable pains of every kind." There was a long silence. "I claim them all," said the Savage at last.
We can't allow science to undo its own good work.
The greater a man's talents, the greater his power to lead astray.
The more stitches, the less riches.
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