Quotes from Anthony Burgess

I expected a gift, you know, something nice and useless...

Shined, combed, brushed and gorgeous

Late December, in Bridgwater, Somerset, Western Province, a middle-aged man named Thomas Wharnton, going home from work shortly after midnight, was set upon by youths. These knifed him, stripped him, spitted him, basted him, carved him, served him—all openly and without shame in one of the squares of the town. A hungry crowd clamoured for hunks and slices, kept back—that the King's Peace might not be broken—by munching and dripping greyboys.

It was very cally and vonny, with one bulb in the ceiling with fly-dirt like obscuring its bit of light, and there were early rabbiters slurping away at chai and horrible-looking sausages and slices of kleb which they like wolfed, going wolf wolf wolf and then creeching for more.

The more sin he sees, the more his belief in Original Sin is confirmed. Everyone likes to have his deepest convictions confirmed: that is one of the most abiding of human satisfaction.

The religious impulse can be very dangerous. It damages, sometimes permanently.

Las cosas serán siempre peores, nunca mejores. Qué nuevo mundo están preparándose ustedes.

Birisi sana vurursa, sen de ona vurursun, deÄŸil mi? Siz gaddar serseriler de devlete çok sert vuruyorsunuz, öyleyse devlet niye ayn? ÅŸekilde kar??l?k vermesin. Ama yeni bak?? aç?s? buna hay?r diyor. Yeni bak?? aç?s?na göre, kötüleri iyiye dönüÅŸtürmeliymiÅŸiz. (syf. 82)

Ser bom pode não ser agradável, 6655321. Pode ser horrível ser bom. E quando digo isto a você, eu compreendo como soa contraditório. Eu sei que vou passar muitas noites sem dormir por causa disto. O que é que Deus quer? Deus quer a bondade ou a escolha da bondade? O homem que escolhe o mal é talvez de uma certa forma melhor do que aquele a quem a bondade é imposta.

There is, in fact, not much point in writing a novel unless you can show the possibility of moral transformation, or an increase in wisdom, operating in your chief character or characters.

Even trashy bestsellers show people changing. When a fictional work fails to show change, when it merely indicates that human character is set, stony, unregenerable, then you are out of the field of the novel and into that of the fable or the allegory.

Oh? And what's so stinking about it?.

In other words, I heard life going on, and it was a comfort.

Iyi bir insan olmak çok da hoÅŸ olmayabilir. Iyi bir insan olmak korkunç olabilir. Bunu sana söylerken, kulaÄŸa ne kadar çeliÅŸkili geldiÄŸini biliyorum...Tanr? ne ister? Tanr? iyilik mi ister yoksa iyi olma seçeneÄŸini mi? KötülüÄŸü seçen bir insan, kendisine iyilik dayat?lm?? bir insandan baz? aç?lardan daha üstün olabilir mi?

How art thou, thou globby bottle of cheap stinking chip-oil? Come and get one in the yarbles, if you have any yarbles, you eunuch jelly, thou.

I am everyone's friend,' I said. 'Except to my enemies.

That was everything. I'd done the lot now. And me still only fifteen.

But now as I end this story, brothers, I am not young, not no longer, oh no. Alex like groweth up, oh yes.

Choice,' rumbled a rich deep goloss. I viddied it belonged to the prison charlie. 'He has no real choice, has he? Self-interest, fear of physical pain, drove him to that grotesque act of self-abasement. Its insincerity was clearly to be seen. He ceases to be a wrongdoer. He ceases also to be a creature capable of moral choice.

Bir ak?l ça??n?n kâfirliÄŸi. DoÄŸruyu görür ve onaylar, ama yanl??? yapar?m.

Me, me, me. How about me? Where do I come into all this? Am I like 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?

El hombre que no puede elegir ha perdido la condición humana.

Ya no es un malhechor. Tampoco es una criatura capaz de una elección moral.

We are always ready to look down on people: it is an abiding pleasure, a poultice for our own sore sense of inferiority.