Sunday, April 12, 2020
A Brave New World. Aldous Huxley. 81932, 1946 Aldous Huxley. HarperCol
A Brave New World. Aldous Huxley. 81932, 1946 Aldous Huxley. HarperCollins Publishers Ltd. NY,NY. 10022 . P 1 AA squat grey building of only thirty-four stories. Over the main entrance the words, CENTRAL LONDON HATCHERY AND CONDITIONING CENTRE, and, in a shield, the World State=s motto, COMMUNITY, IDENTITY, [emailprotected] Here is a document I found on the web which helped me (embedded as an OLE object) : P 13 ANothing like oxygen-shortage for keeping an embryo below [emailprotected] AThe lower the caste . . . the shorter the [emailprotected] P 19 AThey hurried out of the room and returned in a minute or two, each pushing a kind of tall dumb-waiter laden, on all its four wire-netted shelves, with eight-month-old babies, all exactly alike (a Bokanovsky Group, it was evident) and all (since their caste was Delta) dressed in [emailprotected] P 20 AThe screaming of the babies suddenly changed its tone. There was something desperate, almost insane, about the sharp spasmodic yelps to which they now gave [emailprotected] - Pavlovian conditioning room with babies, roses, and books. P 28 ANot so much like drops of water, though water, it is true, can wear holes in the hardest granite; rather, drops of liquid sealing-wax, drops that adhere, incrust, incorporate themselves with what they fall on, till finally the rock is all one scarlet [emailprotected] P 31 AWhat=s your [emailprotected] APolly [emailprotected] P 36 AHome, home - a few small rooms, stiflingly over-inhabited by a man, by a periodically teeming woman, by a rabble of boys and girls of all ages. No air, no space; an unsterilized prison; darkness, disease, and [emailprotected] P 41 AThe madness is [emailprotected] P 41 AMother, monogamy, romance. High spurts the fountain; fierce and foamy the wild jet. The urge has but a single outlet. My love, my baby. No wonder these poor pre-moderns were mad and wicked and miserable. Their world didn=t allow them to take things easily, didn=t allow them to be sane, virtuous, happy . . . they were forced to feel strongly (and strongly, what was more, in solitude, in hopelessly individual isolation), how could they be [emailprotected] P 46 AThere was something called liberalism. Parliament, if you know what that was, passed a law against it. The records survive. Speeches about liberty of the subject. Liberty to be inefficient and miserable. Freedom to be a round peg in a square [emailprotected] P 53 AThere was a thing called Heaven; but all the same they used to drink enormous quantities of [emailprotected] P 54 AWhat you need is a gramme of [emailprotected] AAll the advantages of Christianity and alcohol; none of their [emailprotected] P 67 AThis Escalator-Squash champion, this indefatigable lover, (it was said that he had had six hundred and forty different girls in under four years), this admirable committee man and best mixer had realized quite suddenly that sport, women, communal activities were only, so far as he was concerned, second [emailprotected] P 77 AFive-stepping with the other four hundred round and round Westminister Abbey, Lenina and Henry were yet dancing in another world - the warm, the richly coloured the infinitely friendly world of [emailprotected] P 79 AThe great auditorium for Ford=s Day celebrations and other massed community sings was at the bottom of the [emailprotected] This parallels the minutes hate of 1984. P 81 AAgain twelve stanzas. By this time the soma had begun to work. Eyes shone, cheeks were flushed, the inner light of universal benevolence broke out on every face in happy, friendly smiles. P 84 AFeeling that it was time for him to do something, Bernard also jumped up and shouted: AI hear him; He=s [emailprotected] But it wasn=t true. He heard nothing and, for him, nobody was [emailprotected] P 115 ASlowly, the boy began to walk round the writhing heap of snakes. He had completed the first circuit and was half-way through the second when, from among the dancers, a tall man wearing the mask of a coyote and holding in his hand a whip of plaited leather, advanced towards him. The boy moved on as though unaware of the other=s existence. The coyote-man raised his whip; there was a long moment of expectancy, then a swift movement, the whistle of the lash and its loud flat-sounding impact on the flesh.
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