Alex: 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. The Korova milkbar sold milk-plus, milk plus vellocet or synthemesc or drencrom, which is what we were drinking. This would sharpen you up and make you ready for a bit of the old ultra-violence.
Alex: There were some sophistos from the TV studio right around the corner. The devotchka was smiling away... jollying and vigoreeting. Then suddenly, my friends, the disc on the stereo faded out. And in the short lapse before the other one started, she came in with a burst of singing...
Alex: One thing I could never stand was to see a filthy dirty old drunky howling away at the filthy songs of his fathers and going blurp blurp in between as it might be a filthy old orchestra in his stinking rotten guts;I could never stand to see anyone like that. whatever his age might be, but more especially when he was real old like this one was.
Alex: The Korova Milkbar sold milk plus, milk plus vellocet or sythemesc or drencom, which is what we were drinking. This would sharpen you up and make you ready for a bit of old the ultra-violence.
Tramp: Go on, do me in you bastard cowards! I don't want to live anyway, not in a stinking world like this one. [to Alex]
Alex: Bliss and heaven! Oh, it was gorgeousness and gorgeousity made flesh. It was like a bird of rarest-spun heaven metal or like silvery wine flowing in a spaceship, gravity all nonsense now. As I slooshied, I knew such lovely pictures!
Alex: As we walked along the flatblock marina, I was calm on the outside but thinking all the time, so now it was to be Georgie the General, saying what we should do and what not to do, and Dim as his mindless, grinning bulldog. But, suddenly, I viddied that thinking was for the gloopy ones and that the oomny ones use like inspiration and what Bog sends; for now it was lovely music that came to my aid. There was a window open with a stereo on, and I viddied right at once what to do...
Alex: Ho, ho, ho! Well, if it isn't fat stinking billy goat Billy Boy in poison! How art thou, thou globby bottle of cheap, stinking chip oil? Come and get one in the yarbles, if ya have any yarbles, you eunuch jelly thou!
Alex: 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. The Korova milkbar sold milk-plus, milk plus vellocet or synthemesc or drencrom, which is what we were drinking. This would sharpen you up and make you ready for a bit of the old ultra-violence.
Alex: Oh bliss! Bliss and heaven! Oh, it was gorgeousness and gorgeousity made flesh. It was like a bird of rarest-spun heaven metal or like silvery wine flowing in a spaceship, gravity all nonsense now. As I slooshied, I knew such lovely pictures!
Alex: The Durango '95 purred away a real horrowshow - a nice, warm vibraty feeling all through your guttiwuts. And soon it was trees and dark, my brothers, with real country dark.
Tramp: It's a stinking world because there's no law and order anymore! It's a stinking world because it lets the young get on to the old, like you done. Oh, it's no world for an old man any longer. What sort of a world is it at all? Men on the moon, and men spinning around the earth, and there's not no attention paid to earthly law and order no more.
Prison Chaplain: Choice! The boy has not a real choice, has he? Self-interest, the fear of physical pain drove him to that grotesque act of self-abasement. The insincerity was clear to be seen. He ceases to be a wrongdoer. He ceases also to be a creature capable of moral choice.
Minister: Padre, there are subtleties! We are not concerned with motives, with the higher ethics. We are concerned only with cutting down crime and with relieving the ghastly congestion in our prisons. He will be your true Christian, ready to turn the other cheek, ready to be crucified rather than crucify, sick to the heart at the thought of killing a fly. Reclamation! Joy before the angels of God! The point is that it works.
Alex: You needn't take it any further, sir. You've proved to me that all this ultraviolence and killing is wrong, wrong, and terribly wrong. I've learned me lesson, sir. I've seen now what I've never seen before. I'm cured! Praise god!
Tramp: In Dublin's fair city / Where the girls are so pretty, / I first set my eyes on sweet Molly Malone. / As she wheel'd her wheel barrow, / Thro' streets broad and narrow, / Crying 'cockles and mussels alive alive O!' / 'alive, alive O! Alive, alive O! / Crying Cockles and Mussels alive, alive O!' / As everybody's knowing, You've got a decent tongue, / Whene'er it's set agoing.
Alex: So I waited and, O my brothers, I got a lot better munching away at eggiwegs, and lomticks of toast and lovely steakiwegs and then, one day, they said I was going to have a very special visitor.
Alex: Excuse me, Mrs. Can you please help? There's been a terrible accident! My friend's in the middle of the road bleeding to death! Can I please use your telephone for an ambulance?
Alex: And would you believe it, o my brothers and only friends. There was your faithful narrator being held helpless, like a babe in arms, and suddenly realizing where he was and why home on the gate had looked so familiar, but I knew I was safe. For in those care-free days, I and my so-called droogies wore our maskies, which were like real horror-show disguises.
Mr. Frank Alexander: Then, by God, you've been sent here by providence! Tortured in prison, then thrown out to be tortured by the police. My heart goes out to you, poor, poor boy. Oh, you are not the first to come here in distress. The police are fond of bringing their victims to the outskirts of this village. But it is providential that you, who are also another kind of victim should come here.
Alex: I woke up. The pain and sickness all over me like an animal. Then I realized what it was. The music coming up from the floor was our old friend, Ludwig Van, and the dreaded Ninth Symphony.
Alex: 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. The Korova milkbar sold milk-plus, milk plus vellocet or synthemesc or drencrom, which is what we were drinking. This would sharpen you up and make you ready for a bit of the old ultra-violence.
Alex: As we walked along the flatblock marina, I was calm on the outside, but thinking all the time - Now it was to be Georgie the general, saying what we should do and what not to do, and Dim as his mindless greeding bulldog. But suddenly, I viddied that thinking was for the gloopy ones, and that the oomny ones use like, inspiration and what Bog sends. Now it was lovely music that came into my aid. There was a window open with the stereo on, and I viddied right at once what to do.
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Example:
Luke: Alright. I'll give it a try. Yoda: No. Try not. Do or do not. There is no try.
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