
Monday, we burn Miller … Tuesday, Tolstoy … Wednesday, Walt Whitman … Friday, Faulkner … and Saturday and Sunday, Schopenhauer and Sartre. We burn them to ashes and then burn the ashes. That’s our official motto.

I have all the characteristics of a human being: flesh, blood, skin, hair … but not a single, clear, identifiable emotion, except for greed and disgust.

There was me, that is Alex, and my three droogs, that is Pete, Georgie, and Dim, and we sat in the Korova Milkbar trying to make up our rassoodocks what to do with the evening.

It’s only after we’ve lost everything that we’re free to do anything.

This ain’t none of your business. … I’m makin’ it my business.